Fourteen Moons
by Mela Sunstrong
Summary: Set during Marooned, this is Cat and Kryten's side of the story and their search for their missing companions. Kryten gives vanity a spin, while the Cat learns to fly.
1. Vanity

Full length dress mirrors take up a lot of space. Blue Midgets aren't built to be spacious. Cramming ten full length dress mirrors into a compact ship is no easy task, but it was one the Cat was willing to undertake for the sake of fashion. While Kryten navigated the Midget away from Red Dwarf, Cat wrestled with the mirrors, trying to set them up so he'd be able to see himself at all times. Occasionally he'd be distracted by his own reflection, and would stop to admire it for a while before getting back to work. He finally managed to get the last mirror in place by taking up the fridge and moving it to the rear of the cabin.

Cat stood in the middle of the room to revel in his handiwork. He could see himself from all angles, his image echoing through an infinite series of reflections. There were thousands of him, each as beautiful as the last. He imagined that each reflection was another universe, where somebody looked in a mirror and saw a glimpse of him. They'd probably faint on the spot, then put out their own eyes in the knowledge that they'd never see anything so gorgeous again for the rest of their lives. Then Kryten walked in, and the mirrors caught the mechanoid in their crossfire. If people saw _that_, Cat thought, they might still put their eyes out, if not for quite the same reason.

"Sir, would it be possible for you to move this mirror?" Kryten asked, indicating the one that was furthest to the back of the ship.

Cat wondered what could possibly be so important that his shrine to self needed to be desecrated. "No it wouldn't. Why?"

"It's blocking the rearview mirror. I suppose we could leave it there, if you insist, but if we get pulled over, we'll almost certainly get a ticket for it."

Cat turned his head this way and that, admiring his latest hair-do. "I'm willing to take the risk, bud."

Kryten looked between him and the mirror, receiving no attention from the feline. "If I may ask, sir, what is the aim of this activity? ...Sir? Hello?" The Cat, mesmerized by his own gaze, jumped when Kryten waved a hand in front of his face. "My rudimentary understanding of recreational activities has lead me to find that there is usually some end to be achieved, whether it be getting drunk out of one's skull or pinning a pointy stick on the picture of a scantily clad woman who purports to forecast the weather. I wanted to know what yours was."

"You're asking me why I like looking at myself? Bud, the answer's staring you in your so-called face. After_ I_ was made, God broke the mould, threw in the towel, left the building and locked it behind him."

"Are you really going to keep this up for the entire twelve hour trip?" Kryten asked, worried that he'd have to leave a space around the Cat when he mopped the floor.

"As much as I'd love to, I got a busy schedule to stick to. I have a nap coming up in half an hour, followed by you serving me lunch, and somewhere in there I have to come up with the time to respray this place. I can't let my scent fade, otherwise people will forget who this big shiny thing belongs to. In fact," Cat said, checking his watch, "I should probably get a head start on that nap." He struck one last pose, then headed for the cockpit, walking backwards and throwing kisses to the mirrors. He settled down in one of the passenger seats, tilted back so he could drift off comfortably.

Kryten started cleaning the glass on the mirrors, contemplating as he scrubbed. Mechanoids weren't built to sense beauty in others. They had to be able to tell people apart, certainly, but as far as telling if a humanoid was attractive or not, most droids not designed to aid in the fashion business were out of their depth. He could find the shape of a toilet bowl or a vacuum cleaner appealing. Maybe if somebody's face resembled a really well-made feather duster, the kind where the feathers didn't fall out all over the place, he might begin to grasp the concept.

It certainly was a fascinating concept, vanity. Kryten searched through his internal library for information on the phenomenon. It was usually considered a character flaw, although small doses of it seemed to be beneficial. Whatever it was, it was outside of his programming. Kryten wiped the last smears of cleaning fluid from the mirror he was working on and tried simply looking at himself. It didn't really do anything for him, other than waste time he could have spent cleaning. Perhaps he'd acquire the taste with practice. Mr. Lister would be so proud of him if he could pick up a bad habit all on his own!

He determined to keep practicing mirror gazing. Kryten also tried to think of other manifestations of the trait. He picked up a comb that the Cat had left behind and raised it to his head, only to remember that he didn't have any hair to use it on. "This is just silly. I really should focus on my chores."

The inside of Blue Midget resembled a day-care center at the end of the day, with all the little oddments lying around just begging to be put away. Kryten tried organizing as best as he could, although he couldn't really see any reason that a wig, a stuffed hippo, or a book about Spot the Dog should be on board. He put the wig on the hippo and set it up on a shelf with the book as though it were reading it.

Then he stopped to consider the wig. It was an instant headfull of long red curls. Kryten supposed he could give it a go, since nobody was looking. He put it on and started combing, not really sure what he was supposed to be thinking of it. It might be considered relaxing, the rhythmic stroke of plastic tines through waves of synthetic follicles. Was narcissism supposed to be calming? Was that it's appeal?

"Oh, jellyfish!" Kryten exclaimed when the comb became snarled in his curls. Maybe this wasn't so relaxing after all. It certainly wasn't relaxing when, as he was struggling to work through the tangle, the ship suddenly stopped moving, and he flew with a crash into one of the mirrors at the front of the cabin.


	2. Flying

Kryten stumbled into the cockpit, with a trapped comb and several pieces of glass swinging from his luscious red locks. "Mr. Cat, what's going on? Is it asteroids? A radiation storm? We aren't about to run into a black hole, are we?"

"No," Cat replied. "I just wanted to see what the funny-looking joystick was for. What the hell do you have on your head, Freak Face? It looks like you scalped a prostitute after she'd been in a car accident."

Kryten tore the wig off and threw it aside. "Sir, that wasn't a joystick, that was the emergency brake!"

"I found that out when I nearly had an emergency in my pants," Cat huffed, none-too-pleased with his mistake.

Kryten reset the brake and started the Midget on its way again. "Please, sir, don't touch any of the buttons, switches, or levers. In fact, don't touch the console at all. Aren't you supposed to be taking a nap?"

"I did. Then I pulled the hurl-everything-forward-including-me stick."

"Sir, I already told you, it's called an emergency brake, and it's only supposed to be used for emergency braking!"

"I think the other name has a lot more personal meaning." Cat settled back into his seat. "Aren't you supposed to be getting my lunch?"

Kryten served the meal, and while the Cat ate it, he took the opportunity to clean up what remained of the mirror he'd broken. He hoped the feline wouldn't notice that one was missing. Then he returned to the pilot's seat to keep an eye on things.

Cat munched on a plate of fish sticks, occasionally dipping one into his chocolate milk before eating it. He watched while Kryten flew the Midget. "Hey, bucket head, I got a great idea. Why don't you teach me how to fly this thing?" It was a question he'd put to Lister once or twice before. It was usually met with an invitation to watch the Women's Pudding Wrestling Championships with him. The siren call of seeing squidgy female bodies squirming around in a tasty dairy treat was always more than enough to banish the Cat's piloting aspirations.

Kryten's reply used a similar tactic, but with much less appealing bait. "Sir, wouldn't you like to do some hard-core grate dusting with me instead?"

"Come on, bud. If a monkey can do it, then I can do it better. It can't be that hard."

The mechanoid agreed with that sentiment up to a point; it wasn't difficult at all if your brain was bigger than a walnut and you had an attention span longer than that of a sea monkey. On the other hand, Lister seemed to manage well enough. Kryten drummed his fingers on his chest. "I don't know, sir. Learning how to pilot a space craft is a big responsibility. Are you sure you're willing to dedicate your time and effort to such a task?"

"Are you saying I can't take a little hard work?" Cat asked. "My appearance takes a lot of hard work. I'm sure I break a sweat every time I change my shoes, but you don't hear me complaining."

"Hmm...very well. I'll do my best to teach you, sir."

An hour later, the Cat looked as though he were melting out of the passenger seat, so far had he sagged down in it. He stared blankly into space as Kryten droned on. "...and this is the knob that operates the windshield wipers, or the Windshield Wiper Knob. As you can see, it has five settings, depending on how heavy a dust storm you're going through. The dial beside it is known as-"

Cat roused himself from his stupor, lest his brain decided to make a break for it via his ears. "Okay, Tin Man, I've had enough of this. Can't you cut the vocabulary lesson and actually start tellin' me how to drive the damn thing? I haven't even gotten to do anything yet! You could at least let me sit in the pilot's chair."

"But sir, I haven't told you how to operate the pilot's chair yet!"

"All it does is go back and forth and up and down, same as all the other ones. Now move your metal butt, bud."

Kryten relinquished the chair, only to hover closely over the Cat's shoulder once he took the seat. He pointed to a control on the dashboard. "I'm going to have to test you on your console comprehension first. Now, what is this called?"

"A switch."

"No, sir. Well, yes it is, but I need you to be more specific than that. What kind of switch is it?"

"A shiny switch?"

"A bit more specific, sir."

Cat studied the switch carefully. "Alright, it's a shiny switch that smells like Curry Breath's fingers have been all over it."

Violence wasn't part of Kryten's programming, but he was beginning to consider wrapping his hands around his companion's neck and squeezing. "I can see that's as much as I'm getting as far as the name goes. What does the switch _do_?"

Cat reached for it. "Good question, buddy, let's find out."

Kryten blocked him. "Absolutely not, sir! I can't let you start pressing buttons willy nilly. You need to have a thorough understanding of all the controls first. For all you know, that switch could open the hatch doors, and both of us could be sucked out into the cruel oblivion of deep space!"

Cat raised his eyebrows. "Is that really what it does?"

"No, it's the on/off switch for the internal fans. I just went over all of this, sir, haven't you been listening to me?"

Cat ignored him and flipped the switch. The steady whirring noise of the fans accompanied the circulation of air around the cockpit. He turned them off again. "I get it now, it's the don't-suffocate-on-monkey-smell switch. Now how about the actual steering?"

The mechanoid had begun to regret agreeing to do this in the first place. "I don't think it's wise for us to continue. I'm afraid I'm going to have to stop the lesson in light of Space Corp Directive 413, which states it is forbidden for minors, including people possessing the mental state of a minor, to pilot any space craft."

"Hang on, I thought this whole operation was for miners?" Cat asked, not realizing the bad pun he'd just made.

"It means people who are too young to be held accountable for their own actions. In this case, it also means the mentally handicapped."

Cat folded his arms. "So how come Gerbil Face gets to fly the ship while all I get to do is turn the air conditioning on and off?"

"Because Mr. Lister is...Well, it's better that we only have one such driver behind the wheel rather than two." Kryten removed the Cat's empty plate and cup to the tiny sink in the back of the Midget, leaving the feline to mope in the pilot's seat.

Kryten was more than a bit relieved at being free from the lesson. He had only recently learned how to fly himself. It had taken a little convincing to get him to try it in the first place, until Mr. Rimmer had assured him that it would make him better able to serve. It had been a frustrating experience, but he was proud of his new ability. If the Cat took up piloting as well, his hard-won accomplishment would suddenly be lowered to the level of child's play.

Kryten could see it all now. All he'd have to look forward to was Mr. Rimmer's derision and Mr. Lister's disappointment. He'd be considered next to useless, and his masters would probably abandon him in some god-forsaken storage cabinet. He'd spend the rest of his sad life watching rust creep up his legs, with no company except for some camera with no film left and a busted photocopier. If the Cat learned to fly, he'd be forced to listen to countless dull stories about people scanning inappropriate parts of themselves.

He carefully dried his dishes and put them away, feeling much more relaxed for having made up his mind and done some cleaning. Kryten took a moment to stare at his blocky face in the mirror again, still unsure what he was looking for. Then he returned to the cockpit, only to find the Cat toying with the dashboard again. "Sir, what are you doing?" The mechanoid's voice was shrill with worry.

The Flintstones popped up on the monitor. Cat waved his hand dismissively. "Calm down, bud, I'm only watching a video."


	3. Laundry

Cat thought he was making marvelous time on his to-do list. He'd manicured his nails, changed his clothes several times, mirror-gazed just as many times, napped again, and taken two showers. He was even able to fit in some pelvic thrust practice. As Blue Midget neared the rendezvous point, the desert moon Sigma 14-D, the Cat retired to the back to do some lounging around. Kryten decided to take a little leisure time as well. He'd brought along a bag of rumpled laundry for just that purpose.

The cleaning droid hummed to himself as he ironed. He applied steam to one of Lister's socks, but it kept responding the same way every time: it rolled up on itself and snarled at him. At least this one wasn't trying to crawl off the ironing board. Stubbornly, Kryten continued pressing it. Eventually the sock would get tired and give up, and it would be ready for Lister to wear through the next six months.

Cat sprawled in the row of poorly stuffed chairs that were bolted to the floor, with an arm cast over a backrest, one leg resting along the chairs, and the other leg dangling over the side. Lounging was considered an art form in cat culture, the aim being to come up with a number of different ways to lie around. He grimaced at Kryten's off-key warbling. "Will you quit making that noise? It's worse than listening to Grease Stain's rendition of the Hallelujah Chorus in B flatulence."

Kryten canned the humming sheepishly and focused on the sock he was working on. If the Cat found his vocal unit emissions to be offensive, then it must be so. Then it occurred to him that those kinds of self-diffusive thoughts weren't in keeping with his newfound vanity. He decided to try some out. "I happen to think my musical abilities are much easier on the ears than Mr. Lister's creative use of intestinal gasses."

"I'd put that to the test, but then I'd have to get my ears checked for rabies," Cat answered.

"You must be right, sir. I just wanted to try boasting. Was it any good?"

Cat drew his leg up to rest his chin on his knee. "A little advice bud: only boast about stuff you're actually good at. For example, Gerbil Face can boast he's good at eating spicy stuff, but it doesn't work when he says he's a good guitar player. 'H' Face can boast that he's annoying, he can't boast about...well, pretty much anything else. I can boast about anything, because I really am that fabulous."

Kryten picked up another sock, a feistier specimen than its mate. He had to yank on it to get it to release its grip on the edge of the laundry basket. "Alright, then I believe I'm a pretty mean character with a Hoover. That makes me sound quite impressive, doesn't it?"

"Sure it does." Cat twisted around to lie across the chairs on his belly, kicking his feet up behind him absently. "What's gotten into you anyhow, Novelty Condom Head? Doormats don't boast."

"It's a little embarrassing to admit," the mechanoid replied, "but I've decided to get myself some vanity."

"What with?" Cat laughed. "Your head looks like a pile of dog doo."

Kryten frowned. This wouldn't help his quest for vanity at all. "You don't think my head is attractive? Can I do anything about it?"

Cat propped his face up in his hand and thought about it. "Let me see...try turning your face to the side." Kryten turned his head slightly. "Further," Cat ordered, with the mechanoid twisting his head a little bit more each time. "More than that...a little bit more...There! That's a big improvement already, buddy."

Kryten now had his back to the Cat, and was staring at the wall. "Is it really, sir? But you can't even see my face, can you?"

"Exactly."

"I'm not sure that's helping, sir."

"You can always put a bag over your head."

Kryten went back to his ironing- his brief lapse in attention left the semi-sentient sock attempting to push the iron off the board. "Never mind. After all, there are plenty of people who think highly of themselves when there's nothing to think highly about- take Mr. Rimmer, for example."

"I say give it up. It's painful to watch, in more ways than one." Cat rolled over onto his back and clasped his hands behind his head. He also managed to hike his knee over one of the headrests, and was quite pleased with his improbable positioning. "Leave the self adoration to those who deserve it; in other words, me."

Having pressed his sock into subservience, Kryten took up a perfectly agreeable pair of pinstripe trousers to do next. "It is difficult, but I'd really like to get a bad habit to surprise Mr. Lister with. I think he'd really-"

"Hey!" Cat launched himself from full-out flop to snatching the trousers out of Kryten's hand in one move. "These are _my _pants!"

"Please, sir, can't you let me do at least some of your laundry?" The mechanoid begged.

"I do not trust my duds to you, ice cube head," Cat reminded him. Since the day Lister first resurrected the robot, the two had become locked in a battle over cleaning rights. To Kryten, that vast wardrobe represented days on end of laundrical bliss. However, the Cat was extremely protective of his clothes, and wouldn't dream of putting them under the care of another.

"I assure you, I'm fully qualified in all cleaning methods. It's part of my product description."

"You don't have the right stuff for doing _my_ laundry. 'Iss," he stuck out his sandpapery tongue, "Isth sthpecialithed a'kipment, 'uddy!"

"I'm afraid I must agree with you on that note; while I have a perfectly durable rubber tongue, it's not a clothing-ready model, and I doubt that WD-40 makes an excellent solvent. However, I understand how important your clothes are to you, and I'm sure you'll be satisfied having them cleaned the normal way. Just because I have to turn the fire hose on Mr. Lister's T-shirts from time to time doesn't mean I'm not capable of handling gentler clothes."

Cat wagged his fistful of pinstripe under the mechanoid's nose. "I don't care to find that out on my forty-second favorite pair of pants. If you put a hand near my stuff again, I'll bite it off. Consider yourself warned."

The spat was interrupted by a beeping from the cockpit, the alarm that told them they were nearing their destination. Kryten put away his ironing things beneath the Cat's baleful eye and resumed manual control of the Midget. Sigma 14-D was a little red rock of a moon. He expected that Holly's twelve hour estimate would be an overly hopeful one. They would probably have to wait several hours more for Red Dwarf to make its way through the black hole minefield. To Kryten's surprise, the Dwarf was already there, calmly floating just off-moon. He got in contact with Holly and brought her up on the monitor.

"I see you've made excellent time, Holly. And you've managed to navigate past five black holes! I must say, I'm very impressed," the mechanoid said.

"Yeah, I'm a black hole pro." Holly forced a smile. "Went through them like they weren't even there."

"Well, you'll have to tell us all about it in a minute. We'll be right on board." Kryten ended the link and took a look around the area. Starbug didn't seem to be anywhere in sight. He was glad of that- maybe he could work on some last minute mirror gazing before Rimmer and Lister could catch up.

* * *

_As a note, thanks to my reviewers so far. Also, Kryten and I are starting a petition to have the word 'laundrical' entered into the dictionary._


	4. Missing

Half the day had gone by, and Starbug had yet to arrive. Cat barely noticed and hardly cared. He had the ship to himself, more or less, with nobody to bother him. He made sure to sleep in both the monkeys' beds, and had his dinner in Rimmer's bed, so he could use his sheets to wipe his mouth with. He also practiced his courting yowls, not because he still believed there might be a girl cat on board, but because he liked the sound of his own voice.

"Heeeeyyy!" he cried, as he jived into the science room. "Aaaaooowww! Hi Head, how's it going?"

Holly blinked. "I'm great. Better than great, really. After all, I did bring Red Dwarf past five black holes. I should probably get a medal for that, or a certificate. I'd settle for a pat on the back, except I haven't got one. By the way, you wouldn't happen to feel like going outside and giving the scanner-scope glass a little wipe, would you?"

"Nope," Cat returned pleasantly.

"You never know, a bit of grit on the scanner-scope could be mistaken for any old thing. A huge vicious space monster, a giant asteroid rushing straight for you, the face of the Madonna, even a black hole or three. Or more."

"Any sign of the monkeys?"

"Still none. Missing them?"

"No way, Goldy Locks. I wanted to catch a mouse and leave it on somebody's pillow before they get here."

"Are you sure they'd like that?"

"Why not? They make a great midnight snack." Cat produced a pole with a small net at the end from inside his coat and padded out into the hallways, calling, "Heeeeere, mousey mousey mousey!"

* * *

Twenty-four hours had passed since Blue Midget met back up with Red Dwarf, and twenty-four hours had passed without Starbug doing the same. Kryten was becoming seriously worried. He paced the science room while Holly, at his request, attempted to get in communication with them. All she was bringing up was static.

"It might not be anything to worry about," she told him. "It could just be solar flares, or it could be they forgot to turn the receiver on."

"But what could be taking them so long?" Kryten fretted.

"Maybe they were suckered into one of those roadside attractions. You know, buy some homemade jam, see the world's biggest cucumber, have a look at our three-headed beaver, that kind of thing." Holly suggested.

"Maybe we should go and look for them." After all, Lister and the Cat had come looking for him and Rimmer when they'd been sucked up by a time hole. He wasn't against returning the favor, but he didn't feel he had the authority to go gallivanting off on his own. "I'll ask the Cat and see what he thinks."

Asking the Cat involved finding him first, often a tricky task, as he was given to wandering off on his own, and you never knew where he'd turn up. Kryten checked Lister and Rimmer's room, the cafeteria, the bar, and the storage areas before happening upon him in the recreation lounge. The Cat was busy snoozing on a pool table, curled around his mousing net after a fruitless hunt. Most of his mouse hunts were turning up empty, mostly due to the fact that he'd get bored of doing it after five minutes.

"You'd better have a good reason for waking me up, bud," Cat said, without bothering to open his eyes.

"Sir, Mr. Rimmer and Mr. Lister have been missing for an awfully long time."

"So what?"

"Why, something terrible might have happened to them. Hadn't we better go looking for them?" Kryten asked.

Cat propped himself up on an elbow. "What, squeeze myself, my full-length dress mirrors, and my three racks of suits back inside the Midget-mobile? I only just got all that stuff out. No thanks, buddy. Let those monkeys find their own way back."

Kryten threw his hands up. "What self-centeredness! They might in danger. They could be stranded, or injured, or worse."

Cat began rolling one of the billiard balls back and forth between his hands. "They might be, but I'm not. See, that's monkeys stuff, and they're all crazy. If one of them's in trouble, suddenly all the rest of them have to get worked up, too. Buddy, if it's not my problem, you're on your own."

"But don't you care about them, sir?"

"I care lots. I care if they feed me, and if they pay attention to me. That doesn't mean I want to go all saint bernard search-and-rescue on them."

"But what if they never come back?" Kryten admonished. "Sir, could you honestly live with yourself, knowing that they might have perished, when you could have done something about it?"

Cat batted the ball into the closest pocket. "Sure I could! Hey, I got along great before they showed up, I don't see why I can't do it again." He swung his legs over the side of the pool table. "It's been great talking to you, bud, but I've gotta go check out their room and see if there's any stuff I want to take. You're welcome to whatever I don't want."

* * *

A day later, Cat sat at the table in Lister and Rimmer's room, with a monocle in one eye and a false handlebar mustache stuck on his lip. A grisly murder had been committed, and it was up to him to solve the mystery. He was reviewing all the evidence laid before him, preparing to give his conclusion. "I say Mrs. White did it in the ballroom with the lead pipe!"

Silence met his pronouncement. He checked the other players' cards and found that somebody else was in possession of the lead pipe. Quickly, Cat doffed his Colonel Mustard 'tache and monocle in favor of a bright blue hat with a peacock feather stuck in it. He moved his chair to the other side of the table, rolled the dice, and moved the Mrs. Peacock piece into the next room on the board. "Well, _I_ suggest that Professor Plum did it in the library with the revolver," he declared in wavery falsetto.

Cat shed the hat and moved the chair again, sitting heavily down in it. Clue was no fun when you played it by yourself. He frowned at the frilly white apron that was for Mrs. White. Usually he could get Kryten to play her, but the mechanoid was too busy wondering where the monkeys had gone, a situation that had snapped up his other Clue-playing companion. Lister could do a mean Professor Plum. And then there was Rimmer, who refused to play with them at all most of the time, and who certainly wouldn't do it in costume. He'd usually sit back and make snide remarks, to which Cat and the others could reply in similar insulting fashion. That was always good fun in and of itself.

"Well, they're not back yet, and I'm not gonna be the one to go get them," he said aloud. "I've got lots of things I can do by myself." Cat tried thinking of the ways he used to keep himself entertained before he met the monkeys. He could work on his suits, but he'd already done that today. He could go investigating, but he'd already done that, too. He could go chase his own shadow, an activity that used to keep him amused for hours on end, but now seemed too simplistic.

He was beginning to get annoyed with himself. It was clear he'd been spending way too much time with these monkeys. Maybe it was a good thing they'd gotten lost. He needed a vacation from them, time to himself to get back to his roots, but somehow his roots didn't seem as great as they used to. Cat looked over at the beds, where he'd left a dead mouse on Rimmer's pillow. It wasn't much fun without Goal Post Head around to flip out over it. Maybe he_ would_ have to go get them after all.

* * *

Kryten hauled the last box of medical supplies up the loading ramp and into Blue Midget. Two days' absence was far too long for his software to cope with, and he finally made up his mind to go look for Starbug on his own. He wasn't at all sure he could do it, but he knew he had to try. He was about to go back out to bring his cleaning supplies on board, but he found himself with an arm-full of mirror as he tried to go through the door.

"Hey, buddy, can you get that and the other ten mirrors in there? I need to bring my suits around!" Cat called.

Kryten wrangled the full-length mirror aside and stared at Cat in astonishment. "Sir? Didn't you say that you didn't want to come?"

Cat passed the next mirror along to him. "Well, if those monkeys are too stupid to find their way here by now, they're going to need someone smart and handsome to do it for them."

"I thought you didn't care what happened to them?"

"I'm not doing it for them, Half-chewed Lollipop Head! Those are _my_ monkeys, and I don't like my stuff getting lost. Oh yeah, don't forget, I have three duffel bags full of beauty supplies you'll need to bring up, too. Get a move on, bud!"


	5. Ruins

_Aaaannddd...they're off!_

* * *

In the end, Cat needed to make do with only one bag of beauty supplies, two racks of suits, and four full-length dress mirrors. They didn't know how long the search would take them, and Kryten insisted they needed the extra space for food.

Holly had mapped out the path that Starbug had taken and highlighted the radius around it that they would have to search. The sector was busy with heavenly bodies and space debris, signaling that their mission was going to be a tedious one. Upon coming across a moon or a large asteroid, they would have to circle it in Blue Midget in order to run a decent scan on it. The detector would pick up on any anomalies it found- a large amount of metal, a signal, an energy emission, anything that might signify the presence of Starbug and her passengers. Kryten steeled himself for long hours at the wheel. Cat steeled himself to watch a lot of TV.

Having spent most of the day on the hunt, Kryten was busy scanning their fourth moon. "There's something down there, but the readout is coming back very unclearly," he said. "We should probably land and take a closer look. This moon doesn't have an atmosphere, sir, you'll want to put on a spacesuit."

Cat glanced down at the barren and featureless moon. "Don't worry, buddy, I have faith in you. I've got important stuff to do in here." He resumed his cartoon watching. He was deep in the middle of a Felix the Cat marathon.

Kryten landed the Midget in the shelter of a rocky hillside in the area the strange readings were located. He brought the psi-scan out with him to pinpoint it. While the device warmed up, he walked to the top of the hill to get a better view of his surroundings. He discovered crumbled masonry amongst the rocks, and when he reached the top, he found something even more interesting. On the other side of the hill was the remains of a large stone building. Kryten radioed the Cat. "Sir, there's some sort of old temple or palace over the hill."

"A what? What's it for?"

"I don't know, sir, but it's irrelevant to our mission."

"I wanna see it, bud! I'll be right over!"

"We don't have time to explore. We need to keep looking for Starbug. Hello? Tsk! He hung up on me." Kryten jiggled the psi-scan and got it to wake up. All the information he could get on the building with it was that it had several underground chambers and that it was incredibly old.

Cat finally joined him on the hilltop, clad in his golden space suit. He whistled at the view. "Now this is what I call investigating. Let's go in and see!"

"We really don't have time for this," Kryten protested as he followed him down. "Besides, there's no telling how stable the structure is."

"Aren't you even a little bit curious to find out what it is?" Cat asked.

"Curiosity is considered a dangerous quality that mechanoids do better off without." Kryten couldn't be sure that some curiosity mightn't have crept into his programming somewhere along the line, but he was making every effort to smother it with prudence.

The entrance to the ruins was a lane between two rows of pillars, few of which still stood, holding up a roof that was no longer there. They had to climb over a pile of rubble to get through the door of the building. Although it was clear that the eons had not been kind to it, it was in remarkably good shape for being millions of years old. "How curious," Kryten said as he swept the psi-scan around. "This was built with an artificial stone, a very strong substance. Whoever constructed it obviously meant for it to last."

"Big deal, it's got nice rocks. What was it for?" Cat poked around the room. The place was basically empty, aside from dust, debris, and the alcoves set in the walls. He wiped the dust from above one of them. "Hey, look at this, there's some weird writing here!"

Kryten took a look at it the engravings in the stone. Most of the letters were too worn out to read. He waved the Psi-scan over them and picked up a phrase, 'disco macaroni'. He slapped the side of the device a few times until the translation cleared up. "Ah, 'meditation chamber'. I think this may have been some sort of place of worship. Who or what was worshipped here is a mystery. Being so far out into space, they must have been very secretive or hermitic."

"Who would build a temple on a moon with no air?" Cat wondered.

"It must have had an atmosphere at some point in the past. Perhaps the change is what drove people away. Who knows?"

The pair proceeded deeper into the temple and found everything much the same- empty halls, empty rooms, and empty of any information on its purpose. The Cat came upon a stairway leading down. He crouched by it and peered into the gloom. "Hey, let's check this out. There could be more clues down there."

"Absolutely not, sir!" Kryten was putting his foot down. "The building could very well collapse on us at any time. We should return to Blue Midget immediately and resume our search."

"It looks like the place held up this long, I figure it can do another couple hours. I'm going in." Cat disappeared down the stairs, singing, "These feet were made for investigating, and that's just what they'll do, _aow_!"

Kryten was left dithering at the top. He cupped a hand to his mouth and called, "Don't think I'm following you in there! I'm just going to go back and leave without you. Are you listening, sir? I'm walking away now!" He made for the exit and stopped in the archway to look back. "He'll be out any second now. Any second...any...Oh, dear." Kryten hurried back to the stairwell and picked his way down cautiously, calling, "Mr. Cat, please come back! Don't leave me on my own!"

By the light of his chest monitor, he found his way down the corridor and into a room full of strange devices. The Cat was already there inspecting them by the light of a torch he had found. There was an inscription on the wall here, too, and being more protected from the elements, it was still legible. "'To know and contemplate the all-encompassing'," Kryten read. "Pantheists of some sort?"

"Take a look at this thing." Cat stuck his torch on the wall and held up one of the instruments. It looked like an upright pendulum mounted on a base. He turned a dial on it, and the pendulum started swinging back and forth, ticking at each swing. The feline swatted at the tip of it with his finger. "I think it's a toy or something."

"No, it's a metronome, it's for keeping time. And look, here's an Ionian sundial, and a Mimian clock, an Earth lunar calendar, an hour-glass. In fact, I believe all of these things are time-keeping devices." Kryten picked up a pair of bowls, one larger, the other smaller with a little hole in the bottom. "Look, a clepsydra!"

Cat's eyebrows reached for the sky. "A clappy-who? How's a busted bowl supposed to keep time?"

"They were also known as water clocks, a very old human invention. You would fill both bowls with water, and place the smaller one inside the larger one. Over a certain period of time, the water would leak out of the smaller bowl, and it would sink down. There you have a unit of time, each time the bowl sank." Kryten snapped his fingers. "I think I know what this temple was for. The people here worshipped time itself."

"Who'd do that?" Cat asked.

"Humans have worshipped stranger things in the past. It makes a certain amount of sense- time is an integral part of our existence. However, not many people were part of this particular cult. While they did research time, they spent most of theirs just sitting around and watching it go by. It turns out that most people simply didn't have time to worship time."

Cat walked over to a particularly large contraption that was set in the wall. It was comprised of several stone rings, all shod with steel and each set one within the other. Each ring was marked at certain intervals. "So that means this thing's a clock, too."

"Yes, that may be one of their own inventions. Perhaps we can get it to work. Look, there's a lever in the wall next to it." Kryten joined his crewmate by the ring clock and pulled the lever. There was a sharp _crack_ as the mechanism came to life, followed shortly by an even louder _CRACK! _An ominous rumbling issued from somewhere in the building, then the deafening sound of countless tons of stone falling in on itself. The collapse caused the entire room to shake, and clouds of dust came pouring in from the hallway the two explorers had come in by.

Eventually, the only sounds to be heard were the last bits of rock settling on itself, the Cat's rapid breathing, and the grinding of the ring clock as the sections spun. Cat pulled himself together and fussed over his spacesuit, wiping the dust from it. "Well, Mr. Clappy-siddy-I-know-so-much-about-everything, I guess _that_ wasn't too smart of an idea."

"Yes, well...at least this section seems to have held up. I'll, er, go check the exit..." Kryten slunk off to find that the way back to the stairs was completely blocked with rubble. In fact, the stairs probably didn't exist anymore. He wrung his hands as he returned to give his report. "Sir, it would appear that we might be slightly trapped."


	6. Rubble

The pair searched what remained of the floor they were on, looking for another way out. They lit more torches and candles in the rooms as they went. They found more time-keeping devices and research facilities, and a hall where acolytes might once have gathered to discuss the passage of time. They found one room that had long ago collapsed into the level beneath it, but they found no way to return to the surface. Since they couldn't go up, they proceeded down through the sunken room. This level held dorms, kitchens, and other living facilities, but still no way up. The floor beneath that was much smaller, and was occupied by empty storage containers.

"There's gotta be a way out someplace," Cat complained, as he leaned against one of the containers. "I can't spend the rest of my life cooped up here with you and only one outfit, I'll go nuts."

Kryten kept moving around the cellar, shifting crates aside, hoping there might be a secret passage or vent, anything he might've missed. "You probably won't live very long trapped down here anyway. Those suits only generate oxygen for two weeks, and you'd suffocate."

Cat tried to take more shallow breaths and wondered if the air in his suit was beginning to get stale. "I don't wanna die like that! I'm too handsome and delicious to suffocate to death."

"It's alright, you don't need to worry about that, sir." Kryten started shoving a large metal container aside. "Since there's no water here, you'd die of dehydration long before it came to asphyxiation."

Cat leapt to Kryten's aid pushing the box. "I don't care what kind of '–ation' it is, I'm not letting it anywhere near me. Come on, man, push!" As they moved the crate aside, it revealed a grate in the floor beneath it. They pried it up, opening a pitch black circle into the unknown. Cat wrinkled his nose. "Ugh, what's that reek? You could make a skunk cry with a smell like that."

Kryten shined his chest light down, to no effect. The gloom sucked all the light up, and the strong odor threatened to short-circuit his nasal sensors. "This must be the receptacle for all the order's waste - in effect, the sewers. It's possible it might have an outflow, some sort of passage leading to the outside."

Cat backed up several paces. "Are you saying we go down there? I'd sooner wear a sweater-vest. We don't even know how far down that thing goes! If I wanted to die drowning in a cess pit, I'd go swimming in Grease Stain's dirty laundry bin."

Kryten picked up a stone and dropped it in. Several seconds of silence was followed by a muffled_ plop_. "It does seem a very risky thing to do. I would almost certainly sink at once, leaving you to find your way out alone in total darkness, if there even is a way out. Maybe we should go back up and keep looking for another solution."

"_Way_ better plan!"

They moved back up to the highest chamber and faced the pile of rubble that used to be the way out. Cat paced back and forth before it, trying to think of a way out of their predicament. He snapped his fingers. "I got it! We could just move this stuff out of the way. We'll do it shifts. Since you're made to work, you do two hours, and since I'm made to look good, I'll do ten minutes." He clapped the mechanoid on the back. "Your turn first, bud."

Cat disappeared into the temple, while Kryten took stock of the monumental task before him. Some of the stone slabs were as big as himself, others bigger still, weighing in tons. The very idea of being able to dig their way out was ridiculous, but he started moving the smaller rocks anyway. He didn't have the heart to crush his companion's hopes. His modem was already sinking at the thought of the grim future ahead. He'd wind up much as he was aboard the Nova 5, doomed to fuss over the Cat's moldering bones for the rest of his runtime.

As Kryten turned from the pile with the next stone in his arms, he was shocked to find himself back in the storage area. He dropped the rock and stared in astonishment at the Cat, who was also there. The feline was holding a glass bottle in his hand and seemed just as surprised as he was. "I think I got a head start on the going crazy business, because I wasn't just here a minute ago," he said.

"Neither was I," Kryten returned. "Somehow we've been teleported back here. Very peculiar! You weren't fooling around with any strange devices upstairs, by any chance?"

Cat shook his head. "No. I just found this bottle and opened it up to see if there was something to drink in it, and next thing I know, I'm back in the basement." He shook the bottle upside-down. "Stupid thing's empty, anyhow." He threw it behind him. "Hey, I got it! The fumes from the sewer made us _think_ we went upstairs."

"That would imply that we took the grate off, first, but look!" Kryten pointed to the floor. The grate was back in place over the hole, with no sign of having ever been moved.

"Let's get out of here, this stuff's giving me the creeps," Cat said.

They returned to the uppermost level. "Where did you get that bottle from?" Kryten asked. "Are there more of them?"

Cat showed him the spot, a cupboard in one of the meditation rooms. Bottles lined the shelves, each labeled with a different segment of time: five minutes, half an hour, thirty seconds. Kryten took the lid off of a one minute bottle, and the two found themselves in the room with the ring clock in it, where they'd just walked through precisely one minute before. "I'll be a blender's uncle, bottled time!" the mechanoid exclaimed.

"Really?" Cat said as they returned to the stash. "So you open one of these up, and you get an extra five minutes or something? I could use these when I'm in the shower."

"That seems to be the case." Kryten started rummaging through them. "And just maybe, if we open enough of them, we can take ourselves back to a point before the building collapsed!"

They searched amongst the bottles, opening each intact one as they found them. It would usually put them back to someplace in their exploration of the ruins, so they'd have to return to the room each time. Unfortunately, most of the bottles that weren't broken were those containing smaller units of time, minutes and second and so forth. Even those that appeared whole didn't work all the time, as some of the time-tight seals had come loose over the centuries.

Bit by bit, they worked their way back, all the way up to point where they were standing by the ring-clock, with the last bits of rubble settling in the wake of the collapse. Cat and Kryten looked at each other and ran back to the cupboard, searching for the last bit of time that would set the building whole again. They opened the last bottle, labeled 'Fifteen Minutes'. Nothing happened- the lid hadn't been screwed on tightly enough, and those few precious minutes had escaped a long time ago.

"Hey, wait," Cat said, snatching a bottle out from beneath a pile of broken ones. He held it up. "A day?"

"It's worth a try," Kryten said. "Open it."

Cat took the cap off.

Kryten was seated in Blue Midget's pilot seat. Cat was in the chair beside him, feet propped up on the dashboard, wearing his gold spacesuit, still dusty from the ruins they hadn't yet entered. He took off his helmet and grinned from ear to ear. "It worked!"

Kryten checked his internal clock. "All signs indicate that this is the day before we became trapped!"

Holly's face came up on the monitor. "What's all this about, then? Did I just miss something?"

"You don't remember landing on the moon with the temple ruins on it?" Kryten asked.

"I don't know a thing you're on about. We haven't landed on any moons, none I know of, at least."

"Hold on, if she can't remember what happened, how come we can?" Cat wondered.

Kryten examined the bottle they'd just emptied. "I think the time we released was merely local- it never effected Holly, which explains why she wasn't party to our temporal odyssey."

"Plus she doesn't know we went through some weird stuff with time," Cat added. "If this is yesterday, you know what that means, don't you?"

Kryten pulled up the map of the system they were going through. "Of course! Since we've already gone over the first four moons in another timeline, we can skip checking them this time. We've effectively given ourselves a day's head start on our mission."

"No," said the Cat, who was making a beeline for the food stores. "It means I get to eat that last jelly doughnut a second time."


	7. Droid

On their seventh moon, or their third, depending on whose time-stream you were looking at it through, Blue Midget picked up a distress signal. Kryten set autopilot on a course for the moon so he was free to get his rescue supplies together. Together with the Cat, he rooted through the first-aid kit, making sure they had everything they'd need. "Would you hand me those bolt cutters?" the mechanoid asked.

Cat took the heavy duty pliers down from the wall. "Who were you going to use these on? I'll pay you to say 'H' Face."

Kryten packed them into the emergency kit, alongside a pair of torches, spare batteries, a length of rope, and a six-pack of lager. "Starbug most likely crash-landed, and it's a very real probability that Mr. Lister could be pinned in the wreckage. We might well need to cut through pieces of twisted metal in order to free him. In fact, we should probably bring the laser bone-saw as well."

"What does that do?" Cat asked.

"It's for amputating extremities," Kryten replied, flicking the device on to check it was in running order. Cat clapped his hands to his groin protectively. "If they were involved in a crash, and if Mr. Lister is trapped in the wreckage, he might have an arm or a leg crushed beneath something, or injured beyond salvation. I might need to perform an emergency amputation on site." He packed the instrument away and noted the grimace that had spread over the feline's face. "Don't worry, if it comes to that, I'll handle it. I may only need you to hold him down for me. By the way, do you know CPR?"

"CP-who?"

"Mouth-to-mouth resuscitation."

"Depends on what kind of mouth we're talking about," Cat said. "If it's one attached to a girl-type thing, I'm all over that. Otherwise, you're having this conversation with someone else."

"I'd do it myself, but I don't have lungs. What if Mr. Lister stops breathing while I'm sawing his legs off?" Kryten worried.

Cat put a patronizing arm around the mechanoid's shoulders, informing him gently, "Buddy, usually when someone stops breathing, it means they're dead."

"Maybe I could revive him if I used my vacuum attachment on reverse," Kryten wondered. He added the attachment to the supplies and stood back, trying to think of anything he might've left out.

Cat shook his head at him. "Man, the way you're going on, it sounds like we're gonna find Chipmunk Cheeks half dead."

"These are merely precautions. With any luck, Mr. Lister will be in perfectly stable condition, but it doesn't hurt to prepare for the worst." Kryten clapped his hands together. "Ah, I know what we're missing, biohazard suits and a radiation treatment kit!"

"If we really want to be on the safe side, I say we hire a hearse and a troupe of professional mourners."

* * *

As Blue Midget drew close to the signal emission, Kryten was disappointed to find that it wasn't coming from Starbug. It was coming from another crashed ship, although it didn't look like it at first glance, because the wreck had been converted into a quaint little scrap metal cottage. "Who lives in the shiny gingerbread house?" Cat asked as they landed just outside the picket fence.

"I don't know, but they've been sending an SOS, so we should see if they need help," Kryten replied.

Supplies in tow, the pair made their way up the drive. Kryten staggered beneath a bulky backpack full of rescue gear while carrying a heavy box of first-aid instruments in one hand and a stretcher in the other. The Cat was made to suffer carrying a single life preserver that weighed all of four pounds. The way was lined with metal trees, really poles with ceiling fans bolted to the tops, the blades bent in all directions to resemble boughs. They climbed a short set of stairs onto the porch, which was made from the wing of some spacecraft. Cat knocked on the door.

It opened to reveal a mechanoid who towered head and shoulders above both of them. "Well, hello!" he cried. "Visitors! I have to admit, I never thought I'd ever get any of those."

"And I admit I never thought I'd come across another mechanoid," Kryten said, pleased. "We picked up your distress signal."

The droid clapped a hand to his square head. "Did I leave that thing on again? I'm sorry, I keep thinking that's the switch for the porch light."

Cat threw down his life preserver and glared at Kryten. "I can't believe you made me carry this thing all the way up here for nothing!"

"Please, let me help you bring those back, and then I'd be thrilled to have you both in for some nice hot cups of lead acid!" The mechanoid scooped up the preserver, the backpack, and the first-aid kit in one arm and the stretcher with his other hand. He carried them back to the Midget with ease. "My name's Glenn 5U1U-UUT7, by the way. Some people call me U, but I prefer Glenn. My, that's a fine ship, Mr...er, what's your handle?"

"Kryten 2X4B 523P, and please, there's no need for 'mister'. We are fellow machines, after all," Kryten insisted as they entered the ship. Glenn had to duck down to get through the hatch. "You're a construction droid, aren't you?" Such droids were built for heavier labor than their domestically oriented cousins. They served humans by building roads, bridges, houses, ships and so on. Incidentally, they were also equipped with very loud voices in order to hear eachother over the running of heavy machinery.

Glenn set their things down. "I am, I am. Is this your ship, Kryten? I came here on a ship myself. I was being sent to a resort to set up some condos, but I never got there, because I crashed here, and here's where I've been ever since! I've made it a bit more comfortable for myself, and I hope you'll agree."

"Shouldn't there be others? I thought construction droids were shipped in groups of twenty," Kryten asked.

Glenn stopped. "Were there twenty when I got here? I don't remember. There mustn't have been, because they'd be here if there were. There we go, a little logical thinking goes a long way. Come on, then!" He showed them back to the house, pointing out the various pieces in its design, from the engine exhaust pipe chimney to the windows made from the doors of dryers. Most of it wasn't even bolted together, but twisted and flattened together by hand. "A bit of this and a bit of that, most from my own wreck, but I get presents from time to time. Fallen satellites, space garbage, lost post pods- I get most of my magazines from those."

The interior bore the same junkyard-fashioned styles. He guided them into the living room and gestured to a couch that had been made from a huge pipe, cut in half lengthways, with sheets of housing insulation for cushions. "Have a seat, Kryten, I'll just put the kettle on. And who's your fancy friend?"

Cat seated himself primly on the sofa next to Kryten, offended that it had taken Glenn so long to consider him. "I'm the Cat, in case you didn't notice."

"A cat, are you?" Glenn said as he brought out the beverages. "I've only ever read about cats. I hope you don't mind, but I thought you'd be a bit hairier." He sat across from them in a chair made from a satellite dish. "And don't cats have tails? You use those for hanging upside-down out of trees, right?"

"Er, Glenn, I believe it would be possums that do that, not cats," Kryten said, trying to smooth things over for the indignant feline.

"No?" The construction droid seemed confused. "Well, never mind it. You do lay eggs, though, don't you?" This earned Glenn an incredulous stare from the Cat.

Kryten quickly changed the subject. "This is a lovely coffee table you have here."

Glenn lit up, rapping the table top with his knuckles. "Why thank you! Reinforced titanium, used to be a shipping container. Took me ages to cut the sides out so it could have legs and everything. I have to say, I'm a bit nervous having a cleaning mechanoid around the place. We construction droids can build it, but it's you lot who keep it looking like new. And you're in good shape yourself! What model are those knee joints? Fine pieces of hardware!"

Kryten sipped his mug of acid, trying to hide his bashfulness. "Oh, they're only standard factory issue."

"Then you must come from an outstanding factory, Kryten. Really, I wish I had audio receivers like yours, and I haven't even got a chest monitor. Here, kitty cat, er, what's your name, drink up, enjoy yourself!"

Cat took a whiff of the noxious fluid in his mug and set it down. "No thanks, Bolts for Brains, I've been trying to cut back on hazardous waste."

Reluctantly, Kryten set his drink down, too. "I'm afraid he's right, we can't stay very long. We're searching for two friends of ours who've gotten lost. I want to ask you to join us, Glenn. It must be very lonely for you here."

"Lonely!" Glenn cried. "Not at all! Not when I've got my darling Alice for company. Sit tight, I'll bring her out." He disappeared to rummage around a back room.

Cat perked up. "Alice? That's a girl's name, right? Is she single? Is she cute? Is she...a moose?"

The construction droid had emerged carrying a stuffed moose head with him, which he planted in an armchair. He patted her very un-feminine antlers as her glass eyes stared vacuously at her new acquaintances. "Don't be shy, Ali old girl. Say hello!"

"How's it going, Bullwinkle?" Cat said. He shot a worried look at Kryten.

"...Pleased to meet you, miss," Kryten managed, trying to proceed delicately. This mechanoid was perhaps more eccentric than he'd first thought. "Glenn, I think it might be a good idea if you had a little more company than this."

Glenn was busy stroking 'Alice' on her broad nose. "Hmm? Oh, of course, there's Fergusson, too." He pulled out a drawer and picked through it.

"He's not a flying squirrel, is he?" Cat's dig turned out to be wrong, because Glenn flipped a calculator onto the coffee table.

Kryten let out a sigh of relief. "Oh, good. For a moment there, I was worried you were having relationships with inanimate objects."

As they leaned over, Fergusson turned on, and began running words across his screen. _HELLO CAT AND KRYTEN IM FERGUSSON NICE TO MEET YOU_.

Cat got up. "Could you excuse me for a minute? I gotta go take a breath of fresh air. I'll let you guys have some machine time." Having had his fill of crazy robots, he let himself out. He occupied himself by poking around the backyard, which played home to more ceiling fan trees, some scrap metal hedges, and a set of lawn flamingoes that were inexplicably painted yellow. Wandering through a garden sporting beds of glass flowers, he also found a gardening shed.

He tried the door, but it wouldn't open. A door that wouldn't open only served to arouse a deeply ingrained sense of curiosity. "What do we have in here?" he wondered, and peered through the door jamb. It was too dark to make out what lay within. "I'm gonna find out."

Cat walked around the shed, looking for a chink in its metal plate walls, but finding none. He faced the door again, considering the option of knocking it in. On one hand, it would be murder on his shoulder pads, not to mention the perfectly formed shoulder underneath. On the other hand was the thrill of making the unknown known, dragging it out into the light like dragging a mouse out of its nest. Finally, the thought of being able to paw through Glenn's private things in an act of petty revenge for his ignorance was enough to decide the Cat. One way or another, the door was going down.

He backed up and waggled his fingers at the shed, bidding "Goodbye, door!" before charging it. The sheet of metal flexed as he hit it, the lock and hinges keeping their desperate hold for a split second before the door flew inward. Cat stepped back when he found several dozen eyes looking back at him as they skittered across the floor like marbles.

The door had knocked over one of three jars of eyeballs, as well as a few hands, all mechanoid pieces. Legs were piled haphazardly beneath a built in workbench that had wires, processers, and chips laid out on it. Plastic torsos hung on the wall above it like coats on hooks. Heads swung in bunches, dangling from where they were tied to the rafters, all the same blocky faces with empty eye sockets and open mouths.

Cat had just found the other nineteen construction droids that Glenn crash-landed with.


	8. Calculations

Kryten was busy teaching Glenn some of his cleaning methods. "You should probably dust Miss Alice once a month with a damp cloth, and remember to only stroke in the same direction her hair grows."

"Really! Fascinating!" Glenn declared. He was sitting on the edge of his seat, all attention riveted on Kryten. "You'll have to show me some time."

Fergusson beeped, alerting them that he had something to say. _GLENN WHY DONT YOU GET THAT TABLECLOTHE WITH THE GREASE STAIN ON IT? _

The construction droid snapped his blocky fingers. "Excellent idea, Fergusson! He's smart, you know," he told his guest. "That's why I keep him around. I'm sure you could help me with the tablecloth. Just a minute!" Glenn stumped off, looking for a tablecloth he wasn't quite sure he remembered owning.

Kryten leaned back on the pipe sofa, glowing with the feel of being wanted and admired. He was beginning to think that the vanity gig might be working out for him after all. Fergusson beeped again, and started proclaiming, _KRYTEN Y_, as he could only display eight digits at a time. The rest of his message went ignored when the Cat walked in.

"Okay, Butter-pat Head, I say we split this place. This guy's got some weird fetishes." He glanced down at Alice, still propped up in her armchair.

"You mean leave without Glenn?" Kryten asked. "I know he's a little strange, but that's only because he's been on his own for a long time. Mechanoids simply don't deal well with solitude. We just need to get him to come with us, back to Red Dwarf. Once we find our friends and get him around people, I'm sure he'd improve." After all, he thought he'd come a long way from the Nova 5 himself.

Cat looked around, making sure Glenn wasn't nearby. "Look, the guy's got a girlfriend who could model for a big game hunting magazine and he's got body parts stashed away in the back."

Fergusson beeped again. _GLENN IS_ was as far as he got.

"Well, that's not unusual. I have spare parts myself. We can't just leave the poor fellow behind without any explanation. My etiquette codes simply won't allow it," Kryten insisted.

Cat scratched the back of his neck nervously. He couldn't piece together the meaning of the mechanoid parts in the shed, but he did know that he didn't like it.

"I know Glenn hasn't made the best impression on you," Kryten continued, "But that's no reason to come up with wild suppositions about him, no matter how jealous..."

"Jealous?" Cat started. "The only person I'm ever jealous of is myself in the mirror."

The mechanoid shook his head sagely. "Now, now, I know you're upset that Glenn has been paying more attention to me than he has to you. He actually happens to think rather highly of me. Just a moment ago he was telling me what a finely shaped head I have."

"Like I'm telling you, he's nuttier than a chunky peanut-butter factory!" Cat returned.

_Beep! GLENNS A_

"Technically, peanuts aren't considered true nuts," Kryten lectured. "They're actually-"

_Beep! DROID CA_

Cat cut him off sharply. "Can we cut the trivia and get outta here before old Psycho Screws comes back? And what's that noise?"

_Beep! NNIBAL!_

It was Fergusson, still trying to get his message across. Cat and Kryten looked down at him just as Glenn came back into the room. The calculator cleared his screen immediately, leaving neither side the wiser to his warnings.

"I'm afraid I misplaced that tablecloth," the android said. "Why, hello again, kitty!"

"What's up with the horror movie prop collection?" Cat asked him, much to Kryten's dismay.

"Oh, that! It's where I keep the extra parts I get from dismantling other mechanoids," Glenn replied pleasantly.

Kryten chuckled nervously. "My, what an excellent display of dead-pan mode. I didn't know they installed that one in construction droids." All the same, he felt his panic circuits begin to load.

"They don't! How do you think I keep myself running all these years? Spare parts don't just fall out of the sky, you know. Oh, ha, I guess they do in a manner of speaking, like you just now." The big droid cracked his knuckle joints. "I have to say, I've really enjoyed your company. Now, come here so I can take your head off."

Cat scooped up his untouched mug of lead acid from the table and tossed it in Glenn's face. The two Dwarfers made a dash for the door as the mechanoid stumbled around the living room, sparks fizzing from his ears.

As they ran through the front gate, the edge of Cat's coat snagged on one of the pickets. Momentum carried him onward and tore him free. He flew through the hatch of Blue Midget right after Kryten, who went straight for the cockpit to close it behind them. Cat checked his coat and found that a button was missing. He looked out and spotted it lying on the ground near the fence. He also saw Glenn coming out of the house. "Hang on real quick, bud!"

Kryten didn't hear him, and it wouldn't have helped if he did. He'd already started the hatch close command, and the door clicked firmly into place behind the Cat. Kryten slumped into the pilot's chair in relief. "Don't worry, sir, we're safe now. Nobody can get through that door once it's shut and dead-locked." He found the cabin empty. "Sir?"

There was a pounding on the door, and a muffled voice screeched, "Let me in, bud! Mine's the only body this face matches with! Help!"

While Cat beat frantically away with both fists, a huge hand clamped down on his shoulder. "Come along now, kitty. I've always wanted a pet cat!"

* * *

After dragging the Cat back to his house, Glenn fitted him with a collar by wrapping a metal bar around his neck. He tied him to one leg of the coffee table with a length of wire. Cat tugged uselessly at the line, his every move accompanied by a merry jingle from a bell that hung from his collar. It was bad enough being leashed like a dog, but the bell seemed unnecessarily cruel.

Glenn bustled in from the kitchen and set a bowl down on the floor before the Cat. "I guess you don't take lead acid, so I fixed you a nice saucer of engine oil instead. And I thought of the perfect name for you! I'm going to call you Jingles. How about that?"

The feline folded his arms and regarded his captor coldly. "It's the Cat to you, buddy."

"Why, that's not a name at all! That's like Fergusson going around calling me 'mechanoid'. And it would be downright silly if I only called Alice 'hippopotamus' all day, wouldn't it?" Cat lifted a single eyebrow in response. Glenn picked up a home improvement magazine and continued. "Isn't this a cozy hostage situation? I hope my pal Kryten comes over soon. I really need to borrow a few things from him."

"Then you don't need the bait any more and you let him go, right?" Cat asked.

"What? No, of course not! Not my little Jingles." Glenn patted him on the head heavily, squashing his hair-do. "You'll always be my kitty cat." He donned a pair of reading glasses and kicked back on the sofa, with Alice tucked in the crook of his arm while he read his magazine.

Cat sat on the edge of the coffee table, as far away from Glenn as he could get. He was sure Kryten would come back for him. Who wouldn't? Whether or not he'd succeed in rescuing him...if things didn't go too well, Cat would be facing a humiliating captivity and possibly death by malnutrition. He glanced down at his bowl of motor oil. Maybe death by poisoning, then. He began wondering what the most graceful way to commit suicide was.

Lying next to the bowl was Fergusson, who started flashing a message at him. _YOU LOOK LIKE YOUR IN SOME TROUBLE PAL_.

Cat glanced over at Glenn, who seemed absorbed in his reading. "No kidding, Numbers," he whispered.

_I MIGHT BE ABLE TO HELP YOU OUT. I CAN TRY AND CONTACT YOUR FRIEND._

"I didn't know calculators could do radio, too."

_HOW DO YOU THINK I KNOW WHAT YOUR SAYING. IM NOT A MIND READER. THAT WOULD BE COOL THOUGH._

"Do you do any disco stations?"

_NO. BE QUIET IM CONCENTRATING._

* * *

Safe in the confines of Blue Midget, Kryten alternated between worrying and serving himself heaping piles of guilt. "I can't believe I locked him out! He needed help, and I practically gave him away. What am I going to do? Maybe I should sell myself in exchange for the Cat."

He felt even worse for having eaten up Glenn's compliments so readily. He found he really liked having someone thinking so highly of him. He couldn't believe he fell for that line about his head looking cool. Kryten knew his head was about as cool as road-kill: sad and messed up.

Holly watched him pacing anxiously around the ship. "Maybe you should try something a little less suicidal first. That's funny, I'm getting a weird signal from the house. Might be Glenn trying to open negotiations. Should I pick up?"

Kryten steeled himself. "Yes, Holly."

Words scrolled across the monitor. _HELLO KRYTEN FERGUSSON HERE. CAT SAYS HI BUDDY PLEASE GET ME OUT._

"You're in contact with the Cat? Is he unharmed?" Kryten asked.

Fergusson relayed the mechanoid's concerns to Cat. "I'd say I'm harmed! My hair's ruined, I lost a button off my suit, and this collar's starting to chafe."

_HES FINE, _Fergusson messaged to Kryten. _WE NEED TO PLAN HOW TO GET RID OF GLENN._

"Wait, how do I know this isn't a trick?" Kryten asked. For all he knew, Fergusson was with Glenn. The calculator could be relaying his words to him.

_IM TRYING TO HELP YOU OUT HERE. OH CAT SAYS SOMETHING ABOUT NOVELTY CONDOMS SO YOU KNOW ITS HIM. I DONT WANT TO KNOW._

"Why are you helping us? I thought you were a friend of his."

_HEY I DIDNT EXACTLY ASK TO LIVE HERE. _A few seconds passed. _OK TO TELL THE TRUTH ALICE AND I HAVE BEEN SEEING EACHOTHER BEHIND GLENNS BACK FOR A FEW YEARS. ITS KIND OF A ROMANTIC RIVALRY. _

"But what can I do?" Kryten fretted. "I'm a cleaning mechanoid, and Glenn could take me apart with his bare hands. There aren't even any weapons on board."

_YOUR IN A SHIP ARENT YOU? THAT COULD BE A WEAPON._

"How do you mean?"

_JUST DOZE YOUR WAY IN._

"Crash Blue Midget into the house? But that's far too dangerous! Won't the Cat be killed?" For that matter, he wasn't sure he wanted to kill Glenn, either. He was still holding out the hope that he could fix the other droid.

_OH YEAH. HOLD ON._ Fergusson switched back to talking with the Cat. He could only hold one conversation at a time. _HERES THE PLAN. THE TABLES MADE OF EXTRA STRENGTH TITANIUM. YOU HIDE UNDER IT AND KRYTENS GOING TO KNOCK THE HOUSE OVER. HOWS THAT SOUND?_

Cat nearly dropped the calculator. "Sounds like Psycho Screws isn't the only crazy one around here. Can't you do something?"

_OF COURSE. I _AM_ SUPER ACTION FERGUSSON AFTER ALL. I WILL SUBTRACT GLENN TO DEATH. ILL UNLEASH EIGHT DIGITS OF NUMERICAL WHOOP ASS ON HIM._

"Okay," Cat said, relieved. "As long as you talk Kryten out of that wacky plan."

_NO I CANT REALLY DO THOSE THINGS. SARCASMS ALL IVE GOT. _Fergusson switched back to Blue Midget. _OK KRYTEN WERE SET. CAT WILL BE PERFECTLY SAFE._

"How? Did you get him out of the house?" Kryten asked.

_HELL BE PERFECTLY SAFE. GET THE SHOW ON THE ROAD._

Cat kept his seat on the table, shaking his head. "There's no way we're doing this. You and Bird Tray Head can think up something else. He doesn't even have the guts for it. He doesn't _have_ guts."

Outside, Blue Midget's engines rumbled to life. Glenn sat up on the couch and peered out the window. "Wait, is he leaving? That wasn't supposed to happen." He threw down his magazine and headed for the door.

Cat snatched Alice up. "Hey man, I got your hippo!" He kicked Fergusson beneath the table with his foot and rolled under with him. Alice's antlers snagged on the table top, and he had to jiggle her around to fit her through. There wasn't quite enough space for all of them. One of his arms became stuck in her antlers, and Fergusson was jammed between his shoulder blade and the floor.

"What are you up to, Jingles?" Glenn put his hands on his knees and crouched down to peer at him. "Now, I know you want to play with Alice, but she and I were in the middle of an article on advanced spackling techniques." He grabbed her and tried to pull her back out, but the moose head was firmly tangled up with the Cat. Somehow one set of antlers wound up between his legs, which was more than a little uncomfortable with all the jiggling going on.

Glenn switched tactics and fished out the wire attached to Cat's neck instead. He pulled on it, and the feline's head became painfully acquainted with the underside of the table. "Come on out, you silly kitty!" The sound of Blue Midget's engines grew louder, drowning out the Cat's choked yelps and the mad tinkling of his jingle bell as he struggled to stay lodged in place. Then the world came down around him in a cascade of shrieking metal.

* * *

Kryten threw aside the last sheet of steel lying across the coffee table in what had once been Glenn's living room. The tip of an antler stuck up through the gap he'd just uncovered. It moved aside and the Cat squeezed himself out, clutching a calculator in one hand. "You couldn't have taken any longer to get me out of there?" He groused.

"Sir, it only took me half an hour to get to you." Kryten started patting the dust off of Cat's clothes.

"And I'd like you to know that this is all your fault and I told you so ."

"Thank you for your consideration, sir," Kryten winced.

Cat scanned the wreckage. "Nice demolition work, though." Only a few walls remained standing near the back of Glenn's cozy cottage, the front of the house having fallen completely flat. Blue Midget sat parked at the edge of the collapsed house. It had taken no damage save for a few scratches on its nose.

Kryten bent down and picked up a dislocated mechanoid arm from the rubble, all that was left of Glenn. "Poor fellow. I wish we could have done something for him. It would have been nice to have company."

Fergusson beeped. _DONT BE SORRY. HES BEEN LURING DROIDS IN AND CANNIBALIZING THEM FOR AS LONG AS IVE KNOWN HIM. BESIDES HE ANNOYED THE LIVING DAYLIGHTS OUT OF EVERYONE._

Cat pulled the bell off his collar and chucked it into the wreckage. "You can say that again, buddy."

"I'd like to thank you for helping us, Fergusson. You're perfectly welcome to come with us," Kryten said.

_AW THANKS. ID LIKE TO BUT IF ITS ALL THE SAME TO YOU ID RATHER STAY HERE. ALICE NEEDS ME NOW AND WE SORT OF WANT SOME ALONE TIME IF YOU KNOW WHAT I MEAN._

Kryten set Fergusson down on the coffee table and arranged Alice beside him, her nose tilted towards the calculator. The two Dwarfers picked their way back to Blue Midget, leaving the odd couple to enjoy their romantic bliss. _OH MY BELOVED ALICE. TOGETHER AT LAST. HAVE I EVER TOLD YOU WHAT SEXY WATTLES YOU HAVE?_

* * *

_Maybe I should make a spin-off of the Amazing Adventures of Fergusson the Calculator, but I don't think I'd be able to get much action from it. :\_


	9. Bugged

Two days after the Glenn Incident, Blue Midget touched down on a small moon, their tenth, following a vague life sign reading. As the Cat was in the middle of one of his countless naps, Kryten set out by himself with the psi-scan. Walking through the door, however, the Cat suddenly barreled by him, wide awake. "Wait for me, buddy!" It had been a while since they'd come across something with a breathable atmosphere. For him, the open space and fresh air was a welcome change from the confines of the ship.

While Kryten wandered around the lichen-covered rocks, sweeping the psi-scan this way and that, Cat wielded his spray bottle. "In the name of the sexiest guy in the universe, this place is mine. I name this world...Cat World! This is where they'll set up the monument to mark my first steps here." Spritz. "This is where they'll bow down and worship me at my remarkably life-like yet still nowhere-near-the-real-thing statue." Another spritz. "And _this_ is where they'll set up the Holy Litter-box in honor of my first- hey, do you mind, Bucket Head?" Kryten had paced in front of his last spritz. "I'm trying to do some important founding father stuff over here."

Kryten wiped the mist from the side of his head and held up the psi-scan. "Sir, I'd be much obliged if you'd allow me to get on with work that's slightly more important than christening an empty rock with your unwanted fluids. The scan is picking up a large number of life-signs in this area."

Cat climbed onto a boulder and looked around. All he saw was a barren moonscape stretching out in all directions, a featureless field of stones. All he could smell was the scent of his favorite cologne, fresh from the bottle. "Maybe it's just picking up me. I'm full of life."

Kryten was about to reply when something flew up his nose and began buzzing around inside his circuits. He smacked himself on the back of the head a few times and the bug flew back out through his ear. Two more landed on his face, which he turned into two little smears with a smack of his hand. "I think I've located the source of the life signs."

Cat laughed as Kryten started waving his arms around madly. "What's the matter, buddy, ants in your pants?"

"No, sir, space gnats! This entire moon is infested with them!" The mechanoid began a wild jig as a dark cloud of insects rose up around him.

Cat's merriment died away when one bit him on the neck, and another decided to go spelunking down his ear canal. Jumping down from the boulder landed him in the middle of the swarm, which considered him to be manna from heaven, and they wasted no time showing their appreciation. His run for the safety of the Midget was punctuated by yelps, slaps, and hops as the bugs bit him. For once in his life, he wished he wasn't so irresistible. He slammed the hatch shut behind him and made a disgusted face at the insect remains that were ground into the palms of his hands.

There was a polite knock on the door. "Mr. Cat, if you would be so kind as to let me in, I'd be very grateful." Kryten was immune to bites, but that didn't stop the gnats from buzzing into his visual units and crawling into every nook and cranny they could find on him.

"Sure thing, buddy, I'll be right there!" And Cat was right there, after a shower and a change of clothes. Dressed in perhaps the only rhinestone speckled fur-trimmed bee-keeper's suit in existence, he cheerfully assisted Kryten inside. "Man, am I glad we got outta there. Are you okay? You look a little unhappy."

Kryten's walk was more stilted than usual, and was accompanied by crunching sounds. "That, sir, is because for the past forty minutes, I've been standing in an unbearably irritating swarm of space gnats, most of which are currently jammed beneath my casing."

"Why would you do something like that?" Cat asked, scratching a bite through the shiny gold netting that covered his face.

Kryten quickly cancelled a retort that involved the Cat's mother, incest, and the sniffing of paint fumes. Instead he said nothing and returned to the cockpit to make Blue Midget ready for departure. Their so-far fruitless search through the stars was beginning to teach the mechanoid something new about himself. It wasn't about believing in his CPU, or finding hidden courage, or realizing the importance of friends. He was beginning to discover that he could get annoyed. Deeply, perversely, maddeningly annoyed.

It may have started when they landed on the moon with the helium vents on it, where the Cat found it endless amusing to stand over them and see how high he could get his shrieks to go. Before that, Kryten never even knew his audio receivers could pick up sounds at such frequencies.

It might have been the asteroid that was marbled through with blue diamond. Cat absolutely refused to leave until he'd at least filled up the bathtub with shiny rocks. Kryten kept having to jettison them while he wasn't looking in order to reduce the strain on the engines.

It probably had more than a little to do with the fact that the feline had no interest in keeping a look-out or minding the scanner. He had even less interest in getting his own food or finding his own entertainment. Normally Kryten would be delighted to look after his every little need, but under the dire circumstances they were in, he felt his time was better spent at the wheel than at Cat's elbow, serving breaded chicken breast and wiping the crumbs from his perfect lips in order to spare his perfect arm the trouble.

After this latest trial, his patience chip was beginning to wear perilously thin. Kryten set the ship on autopilot and took his right leg off. Armed with a rag and a set of brushes, he started cleaning the bugs out of his parts. If he could just have some time alone, he was sure he could regain a little of his sanity. He didn't like feeling irritable; as an inappropriate emotion for a mechanoid, it made him feel guilty, and feeling guilty made him feel irritable, and so on.

An hour or so of Cat-lessness later, Kryten was beginning to feel a lot better. He could get through this, he thought, as he gingerly picked a wing out from a tangle of wires inside one of his fingers. He just needed to be like Mr. Lister and think on the bright side. Then Cat barged into the cockpit, and the perpetually shining sun that rose over the world of Bright Side experienced a sudden eclipse.

"Which top do you think goes best with calamine lotion?" Cat held up two hangers, one a frilly black shirt with diamond stud buttons, the other a crushed velvet affair in bright coral. It had already been an agonizing decision to use the lotion in the first place. After a quick nap, he'd woken up to find that his bug bites had decided to swell up and start itching. He figured that the temporary fashion flaw of smearing pink stuff all over him was a lesser evil than being covered in lumps.

"I'm sure either one would be fine, sir." Kryten put his finger back on and took the wheel.

Being a sucker for color, Cat went with the coral jacket. He sat in the passenger seat and started dabbing calamine lotion on his face, carefully assessing each smear in his hand mirror. He glanced over at Kryten. "Hey buddy, I've been thinking..."

"I'll alert the authorities, sir."

"Yeah, well, we've been at this for a while, and I think it'd be a great idea if you let me do some of the driving."

Kryten tried to hide a grimace. "I've already told you, sir, it's against Space Corp regulations for me to teach you. It's entirely out of my hands. Besides, it's not 'driving', it's 'piloting'."

"We're not even _in_ the Space Corp, so why do we have to listen to their rules? Come on, man, I can do it."

"No," Kryten replied flatly.

Cat let out a frustrated sigh. "I hate to use the 'p' word, but...please?"

"No."

"Come on, bud, begging doesn't suit me. Pretty please with anchovies on top?"

"Still no."

"Why not?"

"I'd just...feel safer sticking to the regulations. Why are you suddenly so keen on flying anyhow? I thought you were more than content to let everybody else do all the piloting. I assure you, it's not nearly all that interesting."

"Because it's my job to be cool, and that doesn't mean just looking cool." Cat added another dab of lotion to his generously spotted face. "I gotta do cool things too. I've made up my mind, flying's definitely cool."

"Sir, you don't 'gotta' do anything, you 'have to'." Kryten was getting tired of hiding his annoyance. If the Cat set flying up on the same pedestal as his self-image, he'd never leave the idea alone. "We're on an important mission right now, and we don't have time for learning. Perhaps you can talk it over with Mr. Rimmer when we find him. After all, he seems to have put himself in charge of flight lessons."

"There ain't no way that's gonna happen. I'd rather shave my head than take lessons from that guy," Cat snorted.

"Then I suggest you keep your hair on and forget about flying." Kryten's grip on the wheel tightened. "And for your information, 'ain't' is not an appropriate contraction. Furthermore, 'ain't no way' is a double negative, which implies that there is in fact a way. The English language didn't survive over three million years just to be butchered by you."

"I can talk any way I want, Half-chewed Lollipop Head," Cat bristled. "And quit correcting me!"

"I'd be glad to, as soon as you stop giving me ample cause to do so, which I calculate will take an estimated 4.7 billion years."

Cat held up a threatening finger. "You better not be calling me stupid, cause if you are, I'm gonna knock your eyes out and play ping pong with them."

"Sir, I have no other word in my lexicon to describe a person who thinks that if you record silence and play it back with the volume turned up, it drowns out all the noise in the room," Kryten said. "Although clodpate, imbecile, and nitwit all seem to do you justice."

Cat slammed the calamine bottle down hard enough that it splattered all over the console, the fuzzy dice, and the rubber ducky. "That's it! By the time I'm done with you, you're gonna look like a giant paperclip!"

Holly's face came up on the monitor, where a big glop of lotion had landed right in the middle. "What's all this about? And what's this pink stuff doing here? It's not really my color." She shook her head at them gravely. "Arguing, is it? That's always the way of these deep space missions, you know. The people all set out in the spirit of brotherly love, then the next thing you know, they start thinking the other one's out to get them, and they slip rat poison in your pancake syrup. Seen it a million times on TV, no one ever thinks to have a muffin instead."

Kryten's guilt chip, having been repressed by a rogue annoyance code, finally got the break it needed to kick in, and it kicked hard. "You're right, Holly, I don't know what I was thinking. Mr. Cat, please forgive me! I ought to go straight to Silicon Hell for this!"

Cat noticed that a speck of lotion had landed on his sleeve. "Man, look what you made me do! You wrecked my suit! Forget Silicon Hell, you're going straight to Fashion Hell!"

"I'm so sorry!" Kryten's guilt chip insisted he find some way, any way, to ingratiate himself. "Sir, please, allow me to clean it for you. I'll be terribly careful, I promise."

The Cat, nursing his calamine-spattered cuff, was disinclined to let Kryten have anything to do with it. But he had an idea, one he thought was pretty clever and downright un-stupid. "I might just let you do_ all_ my laundry, Eraser Head."

Kryten clasped his hands together. "Really? Oh sir! You're too generous!"

"I know I am." Cat held up a hand. "But you gotta do something for me in return. I'll let you clean my clothes if you teach me how to fly."

The android hesitated. It was a tempting offer. On the one hand was endless laundry, but on the other was the daunting task of educating the Cat, which, if successful, played straight into Kryten's nightmares of overshadowment. "If you did learn how to pilot, sir, would that mean...would I be allowed to wash your wardrobe indefinitely?"

Cat smiled at his own mastery. "As long as you don't wreck anything, you can wash my clothes till Grease Stain gives up curry."

Kryten guessed things couldn't get too bad if he had a permanent position as his personal launderer. "Then, sir, I think I can agree to your terms."

The pair shared a smeary pink handshake to seal the deal.


	10. Gravity

_Blink. Blink. Blink._

Cat stared at the scanner moodily. Kryten had put him on monitoring duty. He watched the blue blip that signified the ship as it winked at the center of the screen, steady as a heartbeat. Every now and again there would be a yellow blip that signified a star, or a few red blips that meant meteors, or a patch of white static for a dust storm. This was about as exciting at the job got, but Cat had become so bored with life on Blue Midget that blip-watching was thrilling in comparison.

Kryten bustled into the cockpit with his breakfast. "Has anything important come up yet?"

The Cat sighed as he accepted the bowl of crispies he was offered. "It almost did, I saw a dust cloud that looked like a girl's cleavage. Then the solar wind blew and it turned into a bald guy's head. That was the end of_ that_ fantasy."

"I mean any sign of Starbug?" Kryten asked anxiously.

"Nope." Cat took a half-hearted slurp at his cereal. He'd become bored of crispies, too.

Kryten leaned over him and double-checked the scanner's history. "You seem to be doing fine work here."

"That means I'm ready for the flying bit, right?" Cat prodded.

"We both know we don't have time for that now. Our agreement can come into play after we've located our crewmates." Kryten had insisted much the same thing the day before.

"Are you sure about that? Don't think I don't know you've been washing my bow ties on the sly. They all smell like Clean-O brand's Apple Blossom scent. You use that on everything."

"That is not true, sir," he protested. "I wash with Ocean Breeze on occasion."

"You know what I mean, Ice-cube Head. You've got plenty of time for laundry, but not for me, and that's downright heinous."

"Well, most of the laundry has to wait until I have access to all of my dry-cleaning things, and the industrial size washer. That's another reason to put the flying on hold, as well. Back on Red Dwarf we'll have videos, books, diagrams, flight simulation, not to mention a host of safety measures. It wouldn't do Mr. Lister or Mr. Rimmer any good if we crashed too."

Cat set down his half-eaten breakfast and scratched an insistent bug bite just behind his ear. "We don't even know if they _did_ crash. Maybe they got sucked up by some weird space thingy. One of those black holes could've got them. How long are we gonna look before we admit they're dogfood and go home?"

"Oh, please don't say that, sir. It's too horrible." It was a thought that had been lurking at the back of Kryten's processors for a while now, and that was where he wanted it to stay.

Holly interrupted. "There isn't really that much of a chance of that happening, actually."

"With five black holes in the vicinity?" Kryten asked doubtfully.

Holly appeared uncomfortable. "Well, there _may_ have been slightly less black holes than that. Subtract five, that should get you pretty close."

Cat had to do the math on his fingers. "You mean there weren't any black holes at all? This whole thing's been a wild mouse chase?"

"You could put it that way. I made a tiny scanner-scope misreading," Holly admitted. "You see, there these bits of grit, and they have a funny way of looking a bit like black holes, if you squint really hard, close one eye, and tilt your head a bit. You might have to close another eye to get the full effect."

"You're as dumb as I am, only you've got a stupid hair-cut. I bet you couldn't calculate your way out of a bowl of rice pudding," Cat told her. "Are you sure you have six thousand IQ points?"

"Sure I do!" The computer looked injured. "I just...don't remember where I left them, is all. But look on the bright side, you two: nobody's in any danger of having fallen into any black holes." Holly offered a weak smile, but her encouragement didn't seem to have the desired effect on her erstwhile crew. The Cat seemed to take it as a personal offense, and Kryten looked like he'd just caught a virus. She tried diversion instead. "Oh, look! That's a big energy spike on the scanner. Better check that one out." As soon as they weren't looking, she disappeared.

There was a green blip on the screen, the signal for a planet, with a series of blue rings pulsing out from it. Kryten double-checked the readout in case it was another of Holly's mistakes. "That planet is exerting a powerful force. We should determine what it is."

The planet was a swirl of browns and dark grays, and it kept a close orbit around its sun. Kryten made sure to guide the Midget to the night-time side, for surely daylight on such a world would be dangerously hot. As they flew over the surface, they saw pits scattered far and wide. They varied in size from being roughly half a mile to two miles across. It was from these craters that the readings were coming from, some stronger than others. Kryten chose one of medium size and power to land near.

The cat and the mechanoid disembarked to bath in the light of two moons. Cat was clad once again in his golden space suit, as the very atmosphere had been baked away. Even in night, the place was hot, and the suit's internal temperature regulator had to work hard to keep its occupant cool. Cat took a few steps and found that his body felt heavy and slow. "Hey, what's going on here? It feels like someone poured lead in my boots."

Kryten was approaching the depression slowly, holding out the psi-scan like a cop with a speed detector. "This planet is large one, and it has a greater gravitational pull than we're used to. Both of us are currently experiencing a weight gain of approximately twenty-four percent."

Cat screwed up his face. "No planet does that to _my_ waistline. I think I should go wait in the ship before this gets any worse."

"It has no effect on your size, sir, and it isn't permanent. You'll be back to normal after we've left." Kryten's gears and hydraulics were also feeling the weight increase, and had to work harder for him to walk to the rim. Being made of metal had its drawbacks in the heaviness department.

The crater dropped down sharply some ten feet all around the edges, after which the grade became much less steep to angle gently inwards. The angle increased again near the center, gradually at first, then dipping dramatically down into a deep pock-mark. Kryten referred to the psi-scan. "Ah, this is interesting. Our weight gain here is now at thirty-eight percent. Something in the bottom of this pit seems to have a gravitational pull all of its own."

Cat had to exert himself to join Kryten at the rim for a look. Neither of them knew that they were standing on a thin shelf of earth that was sticking out over the side. Neither of them knew that their combined weight was too much for the overhang to bear. They did know that the dry soil crumbled from beneath them, and they both went tumbling down the side. Kryten went into a dizzying log-roll, and the psi-scan went flying. Cat's face smacked into the front of his helmet as he fell down. Although the incline became less steep after the initial drop, it was covered in loose dry soil and pebbles, and the pull at the bottom of the pit was exerting its own force over them.

The two finally came to a stop where the ground leveled out just before the final drop. Kryten turned his head to see the Cat lying several yards away from him. "Sir, are you alright?"

Cat sat up, but the simple motion was now a difficult one. It seemed like something was trying to push him back down. His nose stung from hitting his helmet, and it was bleeding slowly. He was sore, dazed, and bruised, but not seriously injured. "As long as I don't look in a mirror, I think I'm okay," he called.

Kryten tried to get up, but he could only raise his head slightly, and his arms and legs went no further than a few inches off the ground. The psi-scan was lying a good distance up the hill, so he had to consult his internal systems check for the weight gain percentage. "Sir, we're nearly four times our normal weight here. I can't move!"

Cat was able to move closer to him, but only by dragging himself along on his belly. "I can't do much better, man. How are we gonna get out of here?"

"I know, I'll call Holly. She should be able to autopilot Blue Midget to us and help." Kryten sent out the signal, which went unanswered for several moments. When it was finally picked up, all he received was a recording.

"Hello, you've reached some senile old computer who apparently couldn't calculate her way out of a bowl of rice pudding. If you have any concerns, please forward them to somebody more capable, thank you. There, that'll show them...Oh, end message."

The mechanoid called three more times, all with the same result. "She's not listening! I think you may have offended her."

"I was only kidding! So the Head can't take a joke." Cat dropped his head onto his arms. "How long is she gonna make us wait out here?"

"I don't know, sir, but our situation is a dire one if her tantrum takes very long." Kryten studied the sky, since it was the only thing he had to look at. "Without the psi-scan it's difficult to be exact, but I think dawn should arrive in a few hours. Direct sunlight would roast us alive! At least you're able to move. I suggest you attempt to make it back up to Blue Midget and let Holly know how serious the matter is."

Cat looked up the hill. Under normal circumstances, it would be a light hike, maybe ten or fifteen minutes. It was going to be far heavier exercise now that he felt like he was carrying a small elephant on his back. "Are you sure you don't have some kind of overdrive or something?"

"I would gladly go in your place if I could, Mr. Cat, but I can't. I'll keep trying to contact Holly while you're away. And please remember to come back and get me."

"Yeah, yeah, Mr. Cat do this, Mr. Cat do that. Why's it always gotta be me?" the feline groused as he starting army-crawling up the incline.

Five minutes later, he was exhausted, and stopped to take a break. This was difficult work, and he got along well neither with work nor with things which were difficult. He blew blood from his lips. The rocky ground was hard, even through his space suit. His nose wasn't bleeding any more, but it had dribbled down his face, over his chin and onto his neck, sticky and uncomfortable. A voice interrupted his rest.

"Sir, you need to keep moving!" Kryten called to him. Cat looked back over his shoulder to scowl at the mechanoid and found he'd only managed to get about fifteen feet away from him- discouraging when it felt like he'd just dragged himself a million miles.

Reluctantly, he continued his crawl. The bug bite behind his ear began itching terribly, he was hot and sweaty, and the blood on his face dried, tight and crackly on his skin. He used to think that the hardest thing he'd ever done in his life was pull off tweed, but now Cat was forced to reconsider his idea of the word 'hard'. For one thing, it shouldn't be such a small word. He needed a word for the discomfort and the strain and the effort of making your body do things it didn't want to do, but all he could come up with was 'really really really hard'.

He stopped for another rest, panting in lungfuls of warm, recycled air. Cat kept reminding himself that he needed to keep going in order to avoid becoming a crispy, sun-baked Cat. Of course, if he was dead, he wouldn't feel so miserable any more. But that was no way to go, left lying like a dried up turd in a giant litter-box. He'd never forgive himself. He would definitely keep going. _Now._ No, maybe after a little bit. He closed his eyes. Not for long, mind you. It was only a small rest, after all...


	11. Driving

Cat started awake, surprised to find that he'd been sleeping. The sky seemed lighter, but he tried to convince himself that it was only coming from the third moon that had just risen. All the same, his fight with gravity acquired a certain urgency. He was able to get on his hands and knees, and although he felt like he was performing a never-ending push-up, it made the going much faster. Nearing the top of the incline put him farther away from the force at the bottom of the pit, but it was also steeper.

The last hurdle was getting up the initial drop at the rim. Cat struggled to his feet and walked alongside the rise, leaning against the hard-packed soil for support and looking for a part of the wall he could actually climb to the top of. Although his limbs felt as strong as wet noodles, Cat forced himself to scrabble over the lip of the crater.

Finally, gloriously, he'd made it! He was exhausted beyond description, hot, dirty, with sore knees and elbows, but he'd made it. He deserved cheering crowds and confetti, and possibly a beautiful girl in skimpy clothes. At least, guys in the movies usually got a hot chick at the end of everything. To be honest, Cat didn't think he was physically capable of doing anything with one of those at this point. Stupid lying movies.

He turned to look back. It didn't seem like such a long way between here and the dark lump down the hill that was Kryten. Then he saw a bright red sliver appear on the horizon: sunrise. "Uh-oh," Cat said, and staggered for the safety of Blue Midget.

He sank into the nearest chair and reveled in the ship's carefully maintained internal gravity. After being outside, he felt so light he was surprised he didn't start floating off toward the ceiling. Cat took off his helmet and treated himself to the most wonderful scratch behind the ear he'd ever had. He took out a handkerchief to wipe his face with, not even caring that the material didn't match his suit. He'd need a shower too, he thought, once he was able to get up again. A nice long nap would probably help.

Then he remembered: Freak Face was still out there, and Cat had to do something about that _now_, as in immediately. "Hey, Head, wake up! You gotta go get Kryten." There was no reply. Cat tapped on the monitor, wondering if there was a way to force her on. "Come on, the guy's in trouble, and I already did _my_ bit." Again, no answer. "Head? Look, I'll even say you've got great hair. Okay, so it's a big fat lie, but I'll still say it if it'll make you feel better."

Lies or no lies, Holly was not listening. "Fine, play it that way. I can do this by myself, just you watch." Cat moved to the pilot's seat and surveyed the host of buttons and levers before him. He'd been watching Kryten out of the corner of his eye, and figured he knew the basic idea of driving, and the details would work themselves out. He pressed the 'on' button and the engines rumbled to life. So far, so good. Pushing forward on the wheel was supposed to start it moving, but it only elicited a frustrated whine from the motors.

He remembered there was a stick you were supposed to push around. Cat grabbed the shaft, but it wouldn't budge, not until he'd jiggled on the wheel and pressed a few pedals. Gear in place, he pressed forward again. The ship did start moving, only in the opposite direction. Apparently he'd put it in reverse. The feline tried to change it, but he couldn't remember what he'd done to get it going in the first place.

"Backwards it is, then. If I can skate backwards, I can drive backwards, no problem." So the Midget rolled rear-first towards the crater. The crumbled ledge Cat and Kryten had fallen through made the drop slightly less jarring. Poor suspension meant that Cat felt every single rock and bump as the ship rumbled eagerly down the incline, perhaps a little too eagerly on the loose scree.

He checked the rear-view mirror, and after winking at himself, he also caught sight of Kryten directly in his path. He pushed the wheel forward, which was supposed to check the vehicle's motion, but even with the treads stopped, it still slid forward. Cat remembered the hurl-everything-forward-including-me stick, braced himself, and pulled it. Blue Midget jerked to a halt, slamming its passenger back into his seat.

Cat peeled himself forward, inwardly congratulating himself on his success. But what now? Getting the ship to Kryten was one thing, getting Kryten _into_ the ship was something else. He could hardly go out and get him. Cat considered backing the Midget up close enough for Kryten to grab, but decided he was more likely to flatten the mechanoid than help him. Maybe he could throw him a line.

With a sigh, he put his helmet back on and sought out a length of wire. Cat stood in the open hatchway and tossed one end out, but the coil fell woefully short. He drew the cord in and tried several more times, all with the same result. The planet's pull was too strong.

"Hey, Plastic Percy, can't you help out? You're the one with all the bright ideas!" Cat shouted out. Kryten didn't reply, and didn't seem to be moving. He wasn't sure if that meant he was unconscious, or dead, or out of order, or in hibernation mode; whatever it was mechanical things did when they weren't 'all there'.

The feline returned pilot's seat and frowned out at the brightening sky, considering the problem. If he didn't come up with something quick, Kryten would be reduced to a lump of melted metal, if he hadn't been already. It'd be a pity- although he didn't like to admit it, Cat had come to enjoy not having to do his own laundry. That, and he was still owed his flying lessons.

Cat's eye fell on a dial on the dashboard. It had an image on it, a little red 'U' shape with white tips. He knew the symbol for magnet, he'd seen them in cartoons enough times. He switched the dial up one, his sharp ears catching a faint hum that seemed to be coming from all over. It was shortly followed by a light tinkling sound, as nearby pebbles with traces of metal in them flew to cling to the outside of the ship. Cat turned the dial over another notch, and there came a sharp _clack_ from outside. This time it was the psi-scan, picked up from several yards away.

He turned the dial again and re-checked the rear-view mirror. He saw Kryten's arms pointing towards the ship and wavering off the ground as though he was trying to do the worm while laying on his back. Cat shrugged and cranked the dial all the way up. _TTTUNNNNNG! _The mechanoid was ripped from the ground and slapped to Blue Midget's hull, where he stuck as fast as a space barnacle.

"Finally! This rescuing stuff's a lot of work." Cat went to turn the ship around and found that the emergency brake was stuck. He didn't remember how to disengage it, he hadn't been paying attention to that part. Kryten might have gone over it in his first dry lesson, days ago, but it felt like ages and ages since then. "Come on, stick, unstick. I'm the driver, you _have _to do what I want. Head! Head! This isn't funny any more, time to wake up."

Holly appeared, looking either perfectly serene or perfectly witless, it was hard to tell. "What's not funny, then?"

"There you are! Look what happened to my space suit, it's all dirty and scuffed up thanks to you. Me and Kryten got in a lot of trouble, and I don't care how upset you get, you still gotta help us."

"When was I upset?"

"Just this morning when I said you were stupid. Don't you remember?"

"...No. Hang on a minute, what are you calling me stupid for?"

"If you weren't upset, what the hell were you doing this whole time?"

"Playing at logic puzzles. You know, if Mary's taller than Frank but shorter than Bob, does she wear glasses or not? It's good for the intelligence, keeps my mind razor sharp and ready for anything."

Cat rolled his eyes. "Will you just get us out of here?"

The emergency brake sprang loose, and the ship started back up hill, this time in forward gear. It was still slow going, but what Blue Midget lacked in grace it made up for in power and endurance, and it delivered them safely to the top. Cat turned off the hull's magnetization, and Kryten dropped to the ground outside. The feline went out to get him. Kneeling by the mechanoid's head, he shook him.

Kryten returned to consciousness, at least partly. "Chicken, chicken, chicken soup. International temperatures approaching critical levels and enough towels for everybody at the library under the circumstances. Failed script. The brain that dropped the association has announced it will not broadcast."

"Come on, man, don't make me have to drag you in after all I've just been through." Cat pulled him up to a sitting position.

"Creators of fish aren't quite clear..." The robot looked around, confused. "Am I in Silicon Heaven? You're not how I imagined Electronic God would look like."

"No, I'm the Cat, although I _could_ be considered a sex god. Right now all I wanna do is bow down and worship a nice soft bed, so get your plastic ass in the ship and let's go. You are gonna be able to do that, right?"

Kryten struggled to his unsteady feet. "Yes, sir, I think I'll be fine. I may just have to leave my head in the refrigerator for an hour or so to cool my circuits." He tottered on board behind the Cat. "By the way, how exactly was I rescued? I never received a reply from Holly before I shorted out."

"Don't ask, but you owe me big-time." Cat threw off his helmet and wriggled out of his battered space suit, clothes sorely rumpled and hair sticking out in all directions. He wanted a nap, he wanted a hot shower, he wanted a meal, and he couldn't make up his mind which of the three he wanted to start with. His feet made the decision for him and carried him to the bunk, where he fell immediately into a deep and well-deserved sleep.

* * *

_Kryten's gibberish is brought to you by Windows Speech Recognition: it does anything but, though it does come up with some very amusing nonsense._


	12. Found

_Nice long chapter to finish things up with._

* * *

Kryten stood tending to the laundry in the cabin that evening, as Blue Midget circled slowly around moon number fourteen, its scanners running through the usual empty checks. The ship's lights were dimmed as they always were at night, the better to cater to the circadian rhythms of a human crew. This didn't much matter to the mechanoid, and usually not to the Cat, but for once the feline seemed fit to sleep the whole night through. He'd only woken up for an hour or so at dinner time to bathe and eat, after which he went straight back to his bunk. It was set in the wall with a curtain to cover it, and it wasn't terribly comfortable, but after the day he'd just had, Cat felt that sleeping on air couldn't be more wonderful.

As the Midget had no dryer on board, Kryten had strung up a network of washing lines, his own spider's web on which to stick wet clothes to have the juice sucked out of them. While he hung up dress shirts, trousers, and smartly patterned cravats, he did his second best thing after cleaning: worrying.

The next morning would mark the fifth day since they'd set out on their search, and the seventh since Starbug had left Red Dwarf on a false alarm. Even without black holes to worry about, Kryten knew that almost anything could have happened to his masters. Space was a big, scary place.

He wasn't sure what he'd do when once they'd finished their search route. Probably dump the horrible truth in his recycle bin and search the same sector over and over again. What if he was gone? He did like Mr. Lister so. He was nice to him, and he was so very messy. Kryten couldn't bear the thought of going on operating out his life on Red Dwarf without him. He'd have the Cat to look after, of course, but it just wouldn't be the same. Cat was too independent, too self-centered, and stingy with his affection, whereas Lister thrived on social interaction. Besides, without his favorite human to impress, all of his hard work on vanity would be wasted.

Not that he was sure the work was getting him anywhere. Kryten had given up trying to admire his own face, because there was no denying that there wasn't anything to admire about it, and he'd been so embarrassed by what happened with Glenn that self-flattery seemed silly now. How did the Cat make it look so easy? Did he have off days? Days he had to pretend to admire himself? Days when he didn't quite believe his own boasts? Not from the looks of it.

Kryten took down one of Cat's shirts that had finished drying. It was sulfurous orange silk, and it glimmered with delicate sequins the same color. There was a human saying that went 'clothes make the man', which seemed strange to him, because as far as he knew, intercourse between a man's parents was what made a man. Maybe they just forgot the rest of the sentence, and it went 'clothes make the man look good' or something like that. Maybe clothes could make a mechanoid, too.

Kryten glanced nervously over at the curtain that covered the Cat's bunk. He was surely fast asleep, as he had been for hours. Kryten figured that if he was going to do go through with this, he shouldn't put it off. He put the shirt on, turning circles a few times as he struggled to get both arms in the sleeves. He stood before a mirror to assess the result. It wasn't entirely as pleasing as he thought it might be. The shirt was made for a much slimmer occupant than himself, and he could still see all his boxy angles pushing through the material. Still, the change of color was refreshing, and the sequins could serve to distract onlookers from his other downfalls.

Perhaps if he could get the shirt buttoned up the front, it would look better. As Kryten bent forward to start, he heard an ominous tearing sound. He straightened up, horrified, twisted around and looked back in the mirror to see what had happened. The seams had popped wide open at the back of the shoulders. He couldn't resist letting out a squeak of fear. What had he done? The Cat would be furious when he found out about this! And after such a trying day! He'd never let him touch his laundry again!

There came a yawn from the bunk, driving Kryten to new heights of panic. He peeled the shirt off as if it were on fire, making the tears even worse. The Responsible Mechanoid Thing To Do would be to tell Cat the truth and make profuse apologies, followed by groveling. Kryten didn't feel like being responsible, he felt like disposing of the evidence. He bundled up the ruined garment and stuffed it in the first place he could think of, the fridge.

Cat moved the curtain aside and unfolded himself from the bunk space. He rubbed his eyes as he ducked beneath the wash lines. "Hey, bud."

"Good evening, sir!" Kryten replied a mite too loudly. He seized a laundry basket and fiddled with the clothes inside, trying to look innocently busy. "How are you feeling?"

"Kinda better," Cat said, stretching. "Actually I think I was having a bad dream there. Some dog made off with my pants and was chewing them all up."

"Ha, ha, it's funny what nonsense the old brain cooks up while you're sleeping," Kryten forced on a smile. He was tossing the laundry in the basket now like it was a salad.

Cat shrugged and moved for the fridge, but the mechanoid leapt to bar his way. "What are you doing, Ice-cube Head? I'm trying to get a midnight snack here."

"Oh," Kryten blustered, "There- there's no need to exert yourself, sir, I'll get it for you."

"All I want is a glass of milk."

Kryten glanced down and caught sight of a slip of fabric poking out from the bottom of the refrigerator door. "No, no, no, please, I want to serve it to you in bed. Just my little way of saying thank you and, and, I love you."

"Okay..." the sleepy feline consented, and returned to sit on the edge of his bunk, facing the cabin. This wouldn't do at all for Kryten.

"If you could...just get in and close the curtain, sir," he said. "I want to surprise you."

"What's surprising about milk?"

"If I told you it wouldn't be a surprise. Go on, now."

Cat rolled his eyes and retreated fully into the alcove. Kryten waited a while after he'd closed the curtain, to make sure there was no peeking going on. Then he opened the fridge a crack to get the milk out and nearly had a system failure. A not-so-tightly-closed jar of pickles had fallen over on Cat's shirt, soaking it in dill-tinged vinegar. Guiltily, he wadded the fabric up and shoved it further to the back. He didn't have time to deal with it now.

When Kryten swept aside the bed curtain, he was all smiles. "Surprise!" He offered up a tall glass of cold milk on a platter, brimming with froth, with a little paper umbrella and a curly plastic straw in it.

"Wow," Cat said unconvincingly. He propped himself up on his pillows to drink.

"See how the umbrella has teeny weeny flamingoes painted on it...?" Kryten attempted to point out.

"Yeah, that's great." He rolled the umbrella around the inside of the glass with his finger. "Hey, listen, we really gotta get started on those flying lessons tomorrow, first thing after breakfast, shower, hair and make-up."

"Sir? I thought we agreed to wait on that."

"And look at what happened today. If it hadn't been for Holly, you woulda been dead." That was a frightening thought by any means- somebody's life in Holly's proverbial hands. "What was at the bottom of those holes anyway?"

"Most of the information the psi-scan picked up became corrupted, but I was able to recover some. It looked like they were pieces of some super-compacted material, probably fallen there as meteorites."

"Well, I don't know what the hell you're talking about, and that's my point. Who knows when the next thing I don't know what you're talking about is gonna happen? I can't have you dying on me before I get my flying lessons."

Cat's argument was a logical one, for once, Kryten had to admit. He knew he couldn't beat around the bush anymore. "I suppose it would do you good to know the basics, at least."

"That's great, because I have the perfect outfit planned out for it. I'm gonna need some fresh pressed slacks, my snake-skin boots, and that silk dress shirt with the orange sequins." The milk gurgled through the straw as he sucked the last of it up, then he handed the glass back. "Get that all set out for me, would you bud?"

"Yes, of course, sir. Sweet dreams." Kryten tucked the Cat in and drew the curtain on him. He faced the refrigerator reluctantly.

He had sewing to do.

* * *

Kryten sat nervously in the cockpit the next morning, watching Cat pour himself into the pilot's chair. He'd worked on the shirt all night long. Initial frenzied attempts to scrub out the pickle juice only resulted in sequins coming loose and falling off. After that, he had to proceed more gently, steadily pricking away with needle and thread straight through until the morning. He just hoped that his careful labors would go unnoticed.

Cat rolled his shoulders and smoothed his lapels down. The mechanoid drew in a sharp breath when he saw him bend his head down to sniff at the fabric. "Are you using a new Clean-O scent?" he asked. "I like it. It's kinda sharp and crisp."

"Yes, it is, isn't it?" Kryten answered, relieved. "All the better for an attentive learning mind-set." Blue Midget sat parked on the moon they'd just been orbiting, shut down cold, ready for the fundamental lesson in how to start up and take off. He remembered being terrified the first time he'd done it, but the Cat was all eagerness. "Now, in order to bring the ship online, you need to depress the large blue button while turning the key in the ignition."

Cat did, and the instruments on the console blossomed to life. "This is easy. Turn the ship on, use the make-everything-go-whirry-and-blinky button." He turned the key further in the ignition, and the engines came on.

"Sir, please don't get ahead of yourself!" Kryten protested. "I haven't taught you how to turn the engines on yet."

"And how would _you_ do it?"

"Well, basically the same way, but let's please move on. Now, before you can engage the thrusters, you have to change gear from park to fly."

Gear shifts were complicated, as the gear box had more than one setting at each slot, which was designated according to which peddle you were pushing at the time. It probably didn't help that it was also three million years old, and the shaft would often stick. Cat was confused at first, then he discovered that it was helpful to look at it as only so much fancy foot-work, and fancy foot-work was his thing. "Step, step, step, drive," he sang to himself. "Step, step, step, second gear! Step, step, step, fly!"

"If you would go through all of them one more time, sir, so I can see that you really know what you're doing," Kryten said. He was a little annoyed that it hadn't taken the Cat much longer to get the hang of things. "You do seem to have at least a vague grasp of this. Now, this lever here turns on the thrusters."

Cat, bouncing in his seat with anticipation, flipped the lever. It added another layer of noise to the rumbling of the engines. Kryten continued his instructions. "Now you push the wheel up very, very, gentleeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeey!" Cat yanked the wheel shaft all the way up, not the least bit gently, and Blue Midget leapt to obey, rocketing skywards at a fantastic rate. Both passengers were plastered down into their seats until he let up on the pressure, and the ship decelerated to float slowly about a mile up from the surface of the moon.

The feline turned a toothy grin on his teacher. "That was great!"

"That was extremely reckless!" Kryten cried. "If you can't fly safely, I'll be forced to ask you not to fly at all."

"Calm down, Eraser Head, this is the easy part. It just moves whatever way you move the wheel, right?" To demonstrate, he pulled the wheel back, slowly this time, and Blue Midget drifted backwards through the air. He pushed forward and down, and the ship traveled the same direction.

"That may appear to be the case, but there are more complexities and subtleties than first meet the eye. For example, exiting a planet's gravitational field requires much more power, for which you need to divert the ship's energy to the thrusters."

"I need to what?"

"Press the highest button on that panel of buttons there."

"The get-me-outta-here button?" Cat dubbed it as he pressed it, and the thrusters kicked into high power. He sent Blue Midget forward and up, and left the moon behind easily. Out in empty space, he turned the thrusters back down and performed a few gentle slaloms, accustoming himself to the feel of the ship. It didn't take long before he sped up again, trying to test his limits.

Kryten clutched the sides of his seat. "Please slow down, this can't be safe!"

"No way, man, I think I got this. It isn't as hard as you keep saying." Cat flew the ship into a group of asteroids, skipping through them as if he'd been born flying. It was like the ship had become an extension of himself, and it took on a grace and nimbleness that Kryten never would have thought it could. It was amazing, and thoroughly disheartening. He could barely get out of the landing bay on _his_ first try.

One of Cat's turns brought them heading straight for a particularly large asteroid. Kryten kept expecting him to turn away, but seconds were passing without any such move occurring. "Sir, you're going to get us both killed!" He clapped his hands over his eyes, not wanting to witness the moment he'd be splattered across the giant rock. At the last second, Cat peeled away and curled around the asteroid in a series of perfect corkscrews.

After finishing the maneuver, Cat clapped the mechanoid on his shoulder, causing him to jump in his seat. "Haha! You should have seen your face, buddy!" He slowed the ship up to sit back and bask in the praise that was sure to follow.

Kryten stood up. "Mr. Cat, that was..." _astounding?_ "extremely unsafe! You're, you're..." _a prodigy?_ "absolutely reckless and completely unmanageable! I can't believe you..." _learned so quickly?_ "put us in such danger! I'm afraid I must put a stop to this."

Cat was baffled. "What'd I do wrong?"

"You...well, you clearly...I only think it's best..." Kryten dithered.

Cat looked over at him through eyes narrowed in suspicion. "You don't want me to fly," he realized. "What for?"

Kryten collapsed into his seat. "It's true, sir, I don't! Oh, it's so awful of me. It's just that, well, you're already so good at everything! You can sing and dance and be confident, and dress well, and look at mirrors all day long. And knowing how to fly was _my_ special skill."

"Come on, bud, that's not true." Cat wasn't quite sure what to make of the upset robot who was spilling his guts all over the place, except maybe to try and get him to stop. "You're plenty good at doing work and cleaning stuff."

"That might be true, but it's only part of my programming. All mechanoids are made that way, but none of them pilot spacecraft. I'm not sure Mr. Lister would like me anymore if I wasn't different."

"Well,_ I_ don't have that problem, everybody loves me. It's okay to be jealous, I get that all the time."

Kryten looked up at him. "I'm jealous? Do you really think so?"

"Bud, you're greener than a blade of grass on the Jolly Green Giant's front lawn. Don't worry, it's only natural."

"Oh, sir! Thank you!" Kryten cried. Jealousy! It wasn't part of his programming at all, yet here it was, and he didn't even have to work to get it. "I can't wait to tell Mr. Lister. This is wonderful! I'm jealous of you!"

Cat pulled his arm back and smoothed down his sleeve. "Yeah, that sounds great...I think. So, does this mean I can still fly the ship? Because if not, you're gonna have one angry kitty on board."

If he was going to keep his newfound envy fresh, Kryten supposed that the more flying the Cat did, the better. "Certainly, sir. I imagine that you, too, may be seeking approval by being able to handle spacecraft. After all, nobody takes your other abilities very seriously."

Cat snorted. "First of all, I do not do any of that Chicken Soup for the Feline Soul stuff, so you'd better cut it out. Secondly, that's just stupid. Thirdly, is it just me, or does it smell like curry around here?"

"Er, not particularly, sir..." Kryten was a little worried. He did have a few vindaloos in tins packed in the fridge for Mr. Lister, if and when they found him. He just hoped the odor hadn't somehow permeated the Cat's shirt along with the pickle juice.

Cat sniffed the air carefully. "No, it's a curry kinda smell, and sort of...smoky?" His nose wrinkled. "Blegh, dog food!"

"You know I wouldn't bring any dog food on board when I'm perfectly aware of how sensitive you are. I think you must be smelling things."

"I don't imagine smells. If it's not coming from in here, it must be coming from out there." There was something nigglingly familiar lurking just at the edges of Cat's smell range. It wasn't just the curry and dog food, it was the collection of rank scents that made up a particular exhaust, the tang of hot metal and burnt rubber that was unique to a certain engine. He flew the Midget ahead slowly, trying to get a fix on it.

"Sir, it's impossible for you to be smelling anything outside of the ship. Shall I teach you how to switch between manual and autopilot?"

"Will you shut up? I'm trying to concentrate over here," Cat snapped.

Kryten rolled his eyes and fell silent, figuring that the feline would have to give it up sooner or later. The elusive scent lead Cat back to the moon they'd just been at, which he bypassed, and on to the white-shrouded planet the moon circled around. He cross-checked the scanners against his nose, but they were all coming up empty. "That can't be right!" he complained. "I'm taking her down."

The ship entered a world of winds hard at work tossing snow in all directions. With sleet hissing against the windshield and gusts pushing the Midget off course, Cat was hard-pressed just to keep control, let alone pin-point a smell source. "Sir, this is getting too dangerous!" Kryten shouted over the weather. "There's nothing here, we should leave!"

Cat was about to agree. Even if he was right, he didn't feel like risking his beautiful life for a pair of worthless, ungrateful monkeys. Then he saw something, a flash of green amongst the endless white. "There! I found them! Aaaaoooooww, yeah! They're over there!" Blue Midget shot forward, clawing its way out of the storm they were in to circle around Starbug.

"It _is_ them!" Kryten cried. He didn't know whether to be anxious or overjoyed. The Bug didn't look like it was in very good shape, judging from the scrapes and dents visible on whatever parts of the hull weren't buried in snow. They could very well have just discovered a cold green tomb. The mechanoid adjusted the scanners, trying to get them to work, desperate to find out what the situation was. The scope came up empty two more times, then finally got a fix on the wreck.

It listed two occupants, one organic, one electronic, perfectly alive and fully functioning, respectively.

* * *

Cat landed Blue Midget as close to Starbug as the planet's harsh terrain would allow, and immediately headed for his wardrobe, bemoaning the fact that he hardly had any clothes on board with which to knock together an arctic-style rescue outfit. Now that all this searching business was done with, he couldn't wait to get back to Red Dwarf and his endless racks of clothes.

Getting back home as quickly as possible was completely the point of trying so hard to find those monkeys in the first place, he reflected, as he sorted through his deeply inadequate selection of shoes. Inadequate and unshiny! Why hadn't he buffed them in the last two days? It was probably just because he'd been busy. It certainly wasn't because he'd been worrying- that would put wrinkles in his marvelous forehead.

Cat finally finished dressing and headed through the cabin, where Kryten was packing up the emergency supplies. "Come on, buddy, get a move on!" He called as he made his first cuban-heeled footprint in the snow outside. "This outfit will only stay fashionable for so long. Oh, and I call the driver's seat on the way back. Speaking of flying, now you get to teach me how to do it in Starbug, too!"

Kryten thought he might put that lesson off for a bit- there was only so much Cat he could handle in one week. As he finished up lashing the supplies to the sledge, the full length dress mirrors echoed four more of him around the cabin, but he was content not to look back at them. Now that he knew that jealousy was capable of blooming in his diodes, vanity seemed redudant. He supposed that there were some flaws that he would never be able to get the hang of.

As he was making the last checks around the cabin to see if he was missing anything in the way of rescue gear, Kryten came upon a pair of fuzzy pink earmuffs in a cabinet. He reached for them, then dismissed the idea as silly. He was a mechanoid, he didn't need earmuffs. Well, maybe he _could_ be just a tiny bit vain, every now and then. There wouldn't be anything wrong with that, right?

Kryten put the earmuffs on and dragged the sledge out into the cold, ready to rescue his master in style.

* * *

_I almost hate to finish this story, it was so much fun to write! Love etc. to my reviewers, HarryPotterTNGfan, TiaKisu, Butterflygirl113, michael bitter, and Suzie. Your support is well appreciated._


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